A New Empire, Part II
By Rusty Priske, Brian Yoon, and Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
The Crab
The Crab Embassy in Toshi Ranbo matched Kamui’s mental picture of it. It was not large, but it was very solidly built. It looked more like a blockhouse than a diplomatic residence, which was appropriate since the Crab delegation was not generally known for their diplomatic skills. Kamui rapped on the outer door and waited for a response. He did not expect the one he got.
A voice bellowed from within the embassy, “What are you waiting for? The kami to herald your arrival? Get in here!”
Kamui paused, surprised, before pulling the door aside and stepping through. The inside of the building created no dissonance with the outside. It was as expected: blocky, stark and unadorned with finery. Near the door, behind a low desk, sat a man who appeared to be the clerk. He was small for a Crab – which still left him as an average sized man – with ink-stained fingers. He looked up at Kamui with an expression that sat somewhere between weary and disinterested.
This clerk was not the source of the bellow. Across the room stood a large man. Not large in the way that most Crab are large, but wide across the middle like an overstuffed boar. Kamui first thought was that this man was corpulent to the point of obesity, but he quickly realized that there was far too much muscle to dismiss him as being merely fleshy and porcine.
As this large man spoke again, Kamui recognized him.
“What? Who is this? You aren’t from the Lit Lantern!”
“I am Kaiu Kamui,” he bowed deeply, “and I would know you anywhere. You are Yasuki Takai.”
Takai scowled. “If you weren’t a Kaiu, I would say you must be a bill collector.”
Kumui bowed again. “Not at all. I am an admirer, Takai-sama. I saw you battle Shindana at Kyuden Hida. You are surely the greatest sumo fighter who ever lived!”
Takai’s grimace turned into a chuckle. “You follow the matches? You know me?”
Admiration glowed on Kamui’s face. “Who does not? The name Yasuki Takai has great resonance. You are very famous, Takai-sama!”
The large man’s fine turned wry. “Not as much as you might think. The court does not think much of sumo prowess, except as a distraction.” He paused. “So, I could offer you some food and drink, but that idiot from the Lit Lantern is overdue. I thought you were he! He should be here soon.”
Kamui bowed for what seemed like to tenth time. “I would appreciate that. I just arrived in Toshi Ranbo and the trip was long and dry.”
Takai nodded and turned to the clerk. “See what is taking the boy.”
“I will, but first I must ask what Kamui-san is doing in Toshi Ranbo. Do you have orders?”
Takai turned back to Kamui. “You had best answer his questions. He gets to be ornery when he cannot follow his precious protocol.”
“This is no problem.” Kamui produced a scroll from within his kimono and handed it to the clerk. “I was told to come to Toshi Ranbo and report here. I was not told why.”
The clerk looked at the seal on the scroll and his eyebrow shot up. “These orders came from Kuon.”
“Yes.”
The clerk started flipping through a pile of papers on his desk. “That must mean you are…” he found the object of his search and nodded. “Yes, here it is. It is you.” The clerk looked to Takai and then back to Kamui. “It seems that our new friend here as been summoned to see the Empress.”
The surprise on Takai’s face was only a fraction of what was expressed by Kamui. In near-unison they said, “The Empress? Why?”
The clerk shook his head. “It does not say. What it does say is that he is to appear at the earliest possible opportunity.”
Takai turned to Kamui. “It seems then that our repast must wait a little longer, Kamui-san. I need to take you to see her divinity, Iweko the First!”
* * *
Yasuki Takai announced their presence and the two Crab were rushed to an antechamber, where they knelt and waited. The former sumo wrestler felt the pain in his knees within the first hour, but did not complain. On the way from the embassy, Takai had admitted to Kamui that he had not had an audience with Iweko and had thanked him for the opportunity.
For Kamui’s part he stayed virtually silent the entire way. He had not understood Kuon’s orders but had never suspected that the Empress herself had summoned him. He was simply a craftsman, mostly overlooked by his fellow Crab samurai.
As they approached the second hour, a door slid open and a finely dressed Scorpion entered the chamber. Kamui did not recognize him, but he followed Takai’s lead and buried his face into the floor.
“You are the Crab artisan? You do not need to prostrate yourself. Kneeling will suffice.” Kamui did as instructed, though Takai remained as he was. “Well?”
“I am Kaiu Kamui. I am told that I was summoned to see the Empress.”
The Scorpion smirked. “That is not quite accurate, but it will suffice. I assume that since you are new to Toshi Ranbo that you do not know who I am. My name is Bayushi Hisoka.”
Kamui bowed as deeply as possible without returning to his prostrate position. “Chancellor.”
Hisoka nodded. “You have heard of me then? That will make things easier.” He turned to Takai. “You may leave now.”
Takai rose to his feet, with disappointment not quite hidden on his face, and left the chamber.
The Chancellor turned back to Kamui. “So you have been summoned to appear before Empress Iweko. Do you know why?”
“No, Chancellor-sama.”
“No? No suspicions?”
“No, Chancellor-sama.”
Hisoka smirked. “I am sure the Empress will enlighten you in due course. Prior to that, I would have you answer a few questions. What are the Crab saying about the ascension of Empress Iweko, and the appointments she has made?”
Kamui looked puzzled as he said, “The Crab respect and follow the Empress. We have pledged ourselves to her. She is the living embodiment of divine will.”
Hisoka looked levelly at him. “You did not wish another received the blessings of the heavens? Hida Sozen, perhaps?”
Kamui face stiffened. “None in the Crab would question the will of the heavens.”
“And what of the proclamations and appointments? Do you think another would be better suited as Shogun? Would a Yasuki as Imperial Treasurer suit you?”
Kamui eyed the Chancellor. “The Crab are certain that the Empress chose individuals with great virtue. We are also certain that someday we will know what those virtues are.”
Hisoka’s smile took on a predatory tone. “Ah, the legendary Crab knack for diplomacy. Do not be offended, Kamui-san. I ask you only because you are recently arrived, and therefore are more likely to tell me the truth rather than what you have been instructed to say.”
“I take no offense, Chancellor-sama.”
“But you do not trust me.”
Kamui’s eyes flashed. “I trust the Empress had her reasons for your selection.”
“Just so. Well said, Kamui-san. Yet there is still something in your eyes. If you have something to say, say it. Do not fear retribution from me. We are in private and I wish to know what you are thinking.”
Kamui thought for a moment and then said, “I still remember Hida Kisada. I do not claim to understand the workings of politics, but I felt the loss when he died.”
Hisoka nodded. “And you feel I am in some way responsible for his death?” Kamui said nothing and Hisoka continued. “Not me, specifically, but my clan.” He paused again and then said, “I will give you some advice, Kamui-san. I promised you that there would be no retribution, and I stand by my word. However, when you find yourself working for Shosuro Jimen, do not let your fanciful imaginings escape, or you will find your stay very short.” The look on Hisoka’s face made it very clear to Kamui that he did not mean he would be sent home.
“Shosuro Jimen? Am I to be a magistrate?”
Before Hisoka could answer, a door slid open and an Otomo stepped inside. “My apologies Chancellor, but Kaiu Kamui’s presence is requested.”
Hisoka nodded and then quietly spoke to Kamui one last time. “Remember what I said, Kamui-san. My dispensation to speak freely ends now.”
Bayushi Hisoka vanished out a different door and Kamui was ushered past the Otomo. He was herded down a short hall before entering a large throne room. Kamui had never been to Toshi Ranbo, so he could not see what changes had been made, but he was sure that the screens surrounding the dais were not present during Naseru’s reign.
The Otomo motioned for Kamui to kneel, and he prostrated himself, facing the screens.
“You are Kaiu Kamui?” The Crab did not recognize the man’s voice, but he was certain who it was. Word traveled quickly in Rokugan.
“Yes, Satsu-sama.”
“Please rise.”
Kamui returned to his feet, trying not to show any nerves. Standing next to the screen was Satsu, the Voice of the Emperor. The former Dragon Champion looked stern and serious, but not angry. “The Empress thanks you for answering her summons so quickly.”
“A summons from the Empress in an honor. I came immediately, as commanded, Satsu-sama.”
“Yes. Who have you spoken to since arriving in Toshi Ranbo?”
“Yasuki Takai, at the Crab embassy, as well as the clerk there, I believe his name is Irunai. Also, I spoke to the Chancellor just before I was called.”
“And did Bayushi Hisoka tell you why you were summoned here?”
Kamui shook his head. “He did not. He mentioned something about working for Shosuro Jimen, which made me think I was being made an Emerald Magistrate, but then I thought that I would be summoned to the Emerald Champion, himself, and not the Empress, if that were the case.”
Satsu nodded. “The Empress would not appoint each Emerald Magistrate herself, this is correct. That is not why you have been summoned, however.” He reached behind the screen. Kamui could see movement through its translucence. It seemed Iweko handed something to Satsu. He produced a saya with jade inlaid along the edges and small gems in the shape of a flower surrounding the kurigata. It was clearly a masterwork. Kamui had seen this piece before.
“You recognize it.” This was not a question.
Kamui nodded. “I made it. I was attempting to master a new technique.”
Satsu turned the saya over in his hands. “Yes. It is clearly inferior to your later work, yet it is still masterful. The Empress is pleased by it, and your more recent accomplishments.”
Kamui bowed his head. “I am honored, Satsu-sama.”
“Yet it is rare to see work of this style in the hands of the Crab.”
“That is true, Satsu-sama. We have little time to spare for things that are beautiful, but useless. It took me many months to properly combine form and function.”
Satsu nodded. “That is what the Empress saw in it as well. That is why she has tasked you with making more items. Not just sayas, but a full range of items that symbolize certain offices within the Empire. It was your use of gemstones that has particularly caught her eye.”
Kamui bowed again. “I am at the Divine One’s service. My skills belong to her.”
“She has bestowed upon you the title of Jeweled Smith. You will be responsible for the creation of a full range of accoutrements for the Emerald, Jade, Ruby, Amethyst and Topaz Champions. Do you understand your charge?”
Kamui wore a stunned expression, which quickly was overwritten by pride. “I understand, Satsu-sama. I am honored to be of such a service.”
“Facilities are being prepared for you. Word will be sent to the Crab Embassy when they are finished. Now, be off. The Empress has many people to see today.”
The Lion
The sun had set and temperature was rapidly dropping, but Matsu Fumiyo showed no outward sign of her discomfort. She stood on the eastern wall of Shiro Matsu, her home, and fixed her gaze on the road that led to the castle. The night shift along the wall was not popular, but Fumiyo had volunteered for the duty. The events on Seppun Hill had occurred two days ago, and the results were still unknown. Both Matsu Aoiko and Matsu Kenji participated in the tournament and Fumiyo held out a small hope that they had brought the highest glory of all to their family.
Another hour passed before the sound of horse steps reached Fumiyo’s ears. She drew the torch closer and surveyed the road before her. There was a single rider on the road, coming at full speed toward the castle. She could barely make out the mon of the Miya family on his back banner.
“Open the gates!” Fumiyo called out, looking behind her. “It is an Imperial messenger!”
The gates slowly began to part as the Lion followed her instructions. Fumiyo turned back to the exterior of the castle. Her heart beat loudly within her chest as excitement slowly grew within her. She squinted to try to decipher any details from the approaching Miya. There was a second banner attached to his back and it fluttered in the wind as he rode at full speed. It looked to be a personal mon of some sort, but Fumiyo could not recognize it.
Fumiyo waved the nearest soldier on patrol and the woman hurried over. It was Matsu Sakaki, her mentor. Fumiyo’s eyes widened with surprise. “Sakaki-san!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“I volunteered for the duty as you did,” Sakaki replied with a grin. The scar on her face stretched with her expression, but Fumiyo had long ceased to notice it. Sakaki sauntered over and stood next to the younger Matsu. She stared out at the road and continued to speak. “You are not the only woman interested in news of Kenji-sama, sister. We are all behind her efforts.”
Fumiyo gestured to the rider. “Can you see the second back banner? I don’t recognize the kanji.”
Fumiyo watched the older woman’s face as she scrutinized the Miya rider. Her smile slowly faded and a somber expression replaced it. “It is the personal mon of one of the Dragon Clan daimyos. The Miya bears the mon of Kitsuki Iweko.”
Fumiyo’s heart plummeted. “Long live the Empress,” she whispered.
* * *
Several days passed. The Lion delegates to the tournament returned to their homes with elaborate ceremony: though they failed to achieve the position of Emperor, they had all honored their ancestors with their performance. The hubbub behind the tournament still raged on among the samurai and the leaders of the Clan had not been forthcoming with information. The presence of a Unicorn samurai at the ceremony did not go unnoticed and rumors spread through the file and rank like wildfire. Reports stated that Aoiko lost in an early match. Kenji progressed much further than her companion but in a surprise upset she lost to Moto Jin-Sahn in a kenjutsu match.
For Fumiyo, life was beginning to return to normal. She trained hard whenever she was not at duty. She served on patrol around Shiro Matsu and returned to the barracks every night, exhausted. As she returned home from a long patrol around the Matsu province, she almost regretted the end of the war. At least on the campaign field, Fumiyo mused, she had felt a sense of direction and purpose. She did not believe that anyone could have succeeded over her role model Matsu Kenji. The assignment of a Unicorn as Shogun was another blow to Fumiyo’s morale. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Fumiyo was not sure this was all happening.
A messenger came to her quarters, interrupting her as she began to unlace her armor. “Fumiyo-san,” the young girl said, “Matsu Kenji-sama requires your presence immediately in the audience chamber.”
Fumiyo nodded. “I will be there immediately.” She looked down at her attire. It would not be proper to appear in her daimyo’s presence in armor, yet she had asked for her immediate attendance. It would be worse to keep her waiting. She laced back the few ties she had unraveled and headed back outside her barracks.
She ran across the courtyard and hurried toward her destination. The guards at the door looked, a puzzled look on each face, as the young samurai-ko rushed past them. Fumiyo reached the audience chamber in moments. She paused to gather her breath before pushing against the door.
Matsu Kenji and her guests looked up as the creaks of the opening door reached them. Fumiyo paused at the doorway and bowed deeply. “Matsu Fumiyo reporting as ordered, Kenji-sama,” she said. “Forgive me my attire, but I have just returned from patrol and did not wish to keep you waiting.”
“The Matsu are all warriors,” said a young Unicorn sitting at the table. “You give offense to no one.”
Kenji gestured her closer to the group. “Welcome, Fumiyo-san. I believe most of these faces are familiar to you.”
Fumiyo straightened from her bow and looked at each of the individuals in turn. Matsu Kenji seemed unharmed from her trials, though she seemed older than Fumiyo remembered. The others in the room were younger than the Matsu daimyo, but still held high station within the Lion. Ikoma Hagio, second son of Ikoma Korin, sat at Kenji’s side. He looked nothing like his fallen father, who had been famed for his calm demeanor. It was easy to recognize the fire and determination that burned within the new Ikoma daimyo. Kitsu Kiyoko, eldest daughter of Katsuko, sat at the edge of the table. She lacked the golden wisdom that emanated from her mother’s eyes, and she looked almost out of place at this meeting of daimyos. A slight look of disquiet seemed to cross her face from time to time and Fumiyo felt for her loss. The events of the past few weeks looked to weigh heavily on her shoulders.
There was one more person at the table, a young Unicorn man. She did not recognize him but his attire was certainly recognizable. He wore a purple kimono adorned with both the mon of the Unicorn Clan and the White Guard. Fumiyo knew the White Guard well. They attacked with a ferocity that even the Matsu family found worthy.
“Hagio-sama, Kiyoko-sama. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
Hagio acknowledged Fumiyo’s presence with a small nod and Kiyoko gave the young woman a small smile. Kenji said, “Our guest is Moto Jin-Sahn, the new Shogun of the Empire.”
Fumiyo knelt and bowed deeply to the Shogun. “It is an honor to meet you, Jin-Sahn-sama.”
“You welcome me to your home. The honor is mine,” Jin-Sahn replied, inclining his head at Fumiyo.
“Come, sit,” Kenji said. Fumiyo walked forward and tentatively knelt at the edge of the table.
“Jin-Sahn came with us when all the events of the day resolved,” Kenji continued. “He came to ask a boon of the Lion Clan, and I wanted you present for the meeting.”
Fumiyo did not dare ask why.
“My second in command, Shiba Danjuro, awaits my return to the Shogun’s armies along the Unicorn/Lion border,” Jin-Sahn said. “I have been given a great duty from the new Empress and I have no desire to see it fail.”
Kenji nodded. “I recognize that it is a secret duty, Jin-Sahn, and I only ask how the Lion may help you serve the Empire.”
“The armies of my position are powerful,” Jin-Sahn said, “but every Rokugani knows that the armies of the Lion Clan are the most skilled among the entire realm. I saw that strength first hand when I faced you on the fields surrounding Shiro Moto. Now that I am Shogun, I would channel that power. I ask for a portion of that might so that I may ferret out and destroy the enemies of the Empire.”
“Of course,” Hagio responded immediately. “The Lion Clan exists to serve. We cannot and will not refuse an order from the Shogun.”
Jin-Sahn turned his gaze on the young Ikoma. He did not speak, but his expression showed his surprise. Fumiyo knew what must be running through the Unicorn’s mind. The Lion and the Unicorn had been at odds for close to a decade of warfare. Such a sudden acquiescence must have felt unexpected. Fumiyo knew Jin-Sahn would not insult the Lion’s honor by giving voice to that doubt but she did not blame him for holding such thoughts.
“I appreciate such candor, Hagio-san,” Jin-Sahn finally said with a deep bow in his direction. “The Lion reputation for unquestionable honor is well deserved.”
“We will dedicate twelve legions for your needs, Jin-Sahn,” Kenji said. “We cannot offer more without threatening our own defenses. Many of our ranks are yet unfilled in the aftermath of so much war in recent years.”
“That is more than enough for my goal. And the officers?” Jin-Sahn asked.
“Each unit has its own line of command, but they will submit to whatever will fit your needs. They can be flexible to complement your current forces.” Kenji turned to Fumiyo, who had silently kept up with the conversation. “You will need someone to help facilitate the incorporation of so many troops into your existing forces. I do ask that Matsu Fumiyo enters your command group as liaison to the Lion forces. She is young and bright, and I believe she will be excellent at the task.”
Fumiyo clenched her fists tight to avoid expressing her surprise. Her fingernails dug deep into her palm, but she maintained a serene air as everyone in the room turned to look at her.
“Of course,” Jin-Sahn said. “I have no intention of shaming the Lion by not utilizing their power at the full potential.” He rose to his feet and everyone in the room followed suit. “If you will excuse me, I must see to my army. Fumiyo-san, I will see you on the Lion-Unicorn border within a few days.”
Fumiyo nodded numbly. “Of course,” she managed to respond.
Jin-Sahn smiled and bowed. “Until then,” he said, and he was gone.
Kenji turned to Fumiyo and laughed at the expression on her face. “What is it, Fumiyo-san?”
She turned to her daimyo. Now that the guest was gone, she could no longer hold back her distress. “Kenji-sama, I am not ready for such a responsibility. I am a simple soldier with no rank. Aren’t there older, more skilled samurai ready for the task?”
“Do not underestimate yourself,” Hagio said, frowning, “and do not doubt the decisions of your daimyo. If she believes you can do it, there should be no hesitation in your mind.”
“I received many reports during the march to Shiro Moto,” Kenji said. “Your superior officer Akodo Hachigoro brought your skills to my attention several months ago. He said you were excellent on and off the battlefield, and your youthful vigor is admirable. He said you proved yourself on several occasions against the Unicorn armies, and I have watched your behavior since you returned to this castle. This is an opportunity to observe and learn how to manage an army, Fumiyo. I am sure you will not let it slip by.”
The approval in Kenji’s eyes was everything Fumiyo wanted, and she let her gaze fall to the floor. She could feel warmth in her cheeks as she blushed.
“Even if it will be in service to a Unicorn,” Hagio spat. “I cannot understand how he achieved the position over the likes of Otemi-sama. I almost wished he would insult our honor under our roof so we would have justification to challenge him to a duel.”
“Be careful where you express such thoughts, Hagio-san,” Kiyoko warned. “With your new position, you have great responsibilities to the Clan. Acting blindly will only destroy that purpose.”
“You are right,” Hagio agreed. He seemed to visibly deflate. “Of course, I will not be so brash in front of outsiders.”
“Serve Lion interests, Fumiyo-san,” Kenji ordered. “Destroy our enemies and serve with honor. If you follow those mandates, you will have no trouble in ascending in status. Act well, Fumiyo, and you may find yourself leading the Lion armies before long.”
“I am Matsu,” Fumiyo replied hotly. “I know nothing else than to serve with honor.”
“Of course,” Kenji replied. She smiled. “Remember that conviction, Fumiyo-san, and bring Matsu’s vengeance down upon the enemies of the empire.”
The Unicorn
The open plains of the eastern Unicorn lands were glorious at all times of the year, but in some respects it was now, at the early weeks of winter, that they were most magnificent to Moto Jin-sahn. The reason was not something he could immediately identify. Perhaps it was the stark contrast between the still-golden fields and the slate-grey sky. Perhaps it was not the appearance of the land at all, but the welcome sting of the crisp winter air. Regardless, it was always a glorious sight, and one that filled Jin-sahn’s heart with joy.
How ironic that now, when he had made his greatest achievement in the name of his family and clan, that his homecoming should be so bittersweet. He had known Moto Chen, the Unicorn Clan Khan, all of his life, and never before had he dreaded seeing him. What manner of blessing was this?
“Are you well, Shogun?”
Jin-sahn turned to face the Phoenix riding at his left. The man’s eyes were clear and piercing as always. Even in the short time since he had met Shiba Danjuro, he had come to value that quiet strength and resilience. “All is well, Danjuro,” he said. “This is simply… different.”
“I was uncomfortable as well, when first I found myself in the role of commander,” Danjuro admitted. “The first time I went to speak to my Champion after assuming the position as the Shogun’s chief shireikan, I felt… awkward. We were not on equal footing, but neither was I fully his to command any longer. I felt almost traitorous. But of course he was a good and honorable man, and he understood my conflict.” He smiled. “Your situation is different, for you are now the equal of your Khan. But Moto Chen is an honorable man, and your discomfort will prove to be misplaced. You will see.”
“That remains to be seen,” Jin-sahn said. “I feel quite certain, however, that a commanding officer’s subordinate is not supposed to be wiser than him.”
“Well, should you fall in battle I would think you would feel better knowing your forces were in good hands,” Danjuro said dryly. “Or if you should suddenly decide to wander the Empire in disguise as a ronin. That happens, on occasion.”
* * *
The celebration of his arrival at Shiro Moto was unlike anything Jin-sahn could remember in his lifetime. Even the great festivals of the season could not compare to the fanfare he witnessed upon the procession of his forces reaching the clan’s castle. He had brought with him only a thousand men, plus the Lion forces with whom he would combine ranks immediately before entering the Shinomen forest. It was only a fraction of the forces now under his command, and it seemed that there were many times that number celebrating his arrival. Both the Emerald Champion and Danjuro had encouraged him to bring a larger force, but Danjuro had experience in the Shinomen Mori, and knew that a larger force would prove ineffective. No, he hoped to supplement his forces with scouts on loan from the Khol.
The Khan stood at the gates of Shiro Moto, splendid in his finest armor, and with his beautiful bride and daughter at his side. When Jin-sahn dismounted and bowed before the Khan, all grew silent. Moto Chen stepped forward and touched his friend’s shoulder lightly, biding him rise. Then he turned and faced those who had come to see him. He drew his scimitar and held it aloft. “All hail Moto Jin-sahn, Shogun of Rokugan!”
The roar of the crowd was deafening. Paper and other objects were thrown into the air, giving it the appearance of a multi-colored snow for a few brief seconds. Jin-sahn struggled to look pleased, but inwardly he wondered if the Lords of Death would be pleased at such a display. He suspected they would find it both wasteful and presumptuous.
“Welcome home, my friend,” Chen said with a grin. “Come inside. There is much for us to talk about.”
* * *
A short time later, Jin-sahn and Danjuro were enjoying the hospitality of the Khan and his wife in a large private audience chamber within the castle. A variety of Unicorn delicacies were available, and while Jin-sahn was pleased to see them after the trip, Danjuro seemed curiously disinterested in most of them.
“A thousand men,” Chen observed, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to Akasha. “I would have expected the Shogun to have greater resources at his disposal!”
“Truth be told there is a score of legions,” Jin-sahn began.
“My husband is teasing you,” Akasha said, offering a cup of more traditional tea blends to Danjuro, who bowed. “We are of course familiar with the Shogunate’s forces. A formidable force at your command, Jin-sahn. We are all very proud.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Jin-sahn said quietly. “I am… unworthy of such praise.”
“I would respectfully disagree,” Danjuro added.
“Ha!” Chen laughed. “See? A good judge of character, that one. No wonder you kept him on.”
“Humility is one of the precepts of the Lords of Death,” Akasha said to Danjuro. “I believe compliments make Jin-sahn somewhat uncomfortable. It might be considered teasing for us to laud him so, but we consider it a means of affirming his faith.”
Danjuro might have frowned slightly, but said nothing.
“I received the message you sent ahead,” Chen said. “I can have all the issues you mentioned handled very shortly. There was one I was curious about, however.”
“The ronin.”
Chen nodded. “This ronin, he was a magistrate at Zakyo Toshi?”
“He was,” Jin-sahn confirmed. “He was appointed to that position as a result of his affiliation with my predecessor. He was essentially ousted from his duties there by Scorpion intervention, in the form of the Emerald Champion ceding control over the city to his clan.”
“Bah,” Chen said. “What a sickening abuse of authority. That man should have been executed for even attempting to enter the Championship. That he was allowed victory is a testament to how badly we needed an Empress in the first place.”
“Husband,” Akasha said. “Jin-sahn must work closely with Shosuro Jimen now. It is unseemly to speak of him in such… less than glowing terms.”
“Ah, yes,” Chen nodded. “I see. My apologies. Well, regardless, in this case there is something I can do about it, perhaps. If you can attest to this man’s character, this ronin Etsushi, then I will gladly see to it he is offered fealty.”
“I have only met him once,” Jin-sahn said, “but Danjuro speaks highly of him, and that is sufficient for me, I think.”
“He is a good man,” Danjuro confirmed. “Somewhat boisterous, but devoted to his cause. His father was the leader of the Hidden Sword some years ago, before they were eradicated by the Forest Killers. Etsushi and his brother reformed the group before re-entering the Shogun’s service.”
“He was held in esteem by Lord Kaneka,” Chen nodded appreciatively. “Any friend of so noble a Lord as the previous Shogun is worthy. I will speak to Genki tomorrow.” He glanced at the scroll on the desk again. “About your other request… how many scout patrols do you require?”
“Five, if possible,” Jin-sahn said. “I am loathe to make such a request, my lord, but I have need of men who are familiar with the Shinomen.”
Chen nodded grimly. “Our forces are scarce following the war, but we can manage that number. It is the least we can do for our Empress and her Shogun.”
“I would request Moto Chiang’s squadron, if I may,” Jin-sahn said. “I am familiar with them from the war, and I trust Chiang above all others.”
Akasha had a wistful expression. “I regret to inform you that Chiang and his men are currently deployed in the Western Steppes. They will be unavailable for some weeks.”
Jin-sahn shook his head. “I cannot wait that long. We must leave as soon as possible. When can the scouts be ready?”
“By morning,” Chen said. “What is the purpose of your work in the Shinomen?”
That was the question that Jin-sahn had been dreading since the moment of his departure from the Imperial City. “I am sorry, my lord,” he said, “but I cannot tell you that.”
Chen and Akasha both stopped. Akasha looked at Jin-sahn curiously, and then to Chen, whose expression was stormy. “What do you mean?”
“I am sorry, my lord,” Jin-sahn repeated, “but the nature of my work is confidential. My orders came from the Voice of the Empress. I cannot speak of it to any save those among the Empress’ Chosen and my immediate subordinates within the Shogunate.”
Chen was quiet for a moment. “I wish to make absolutely certain that I understand the situation completely,” he finally said. “You wish to make use of Unicorn resources to conduct operations within the Shinomen Mori, where we have several outposts as well as the Naga ruins we are honor-bound to protect…”
“I will need use of those resources, and you may be required to recall some of your personnel until the operation is over,” Jin-sahn added.
“…but we are not permitted to know the purpose of any of this?”
“No, my lord.”
“You will forgive me if I say I find this… distasteful.”
“You are well within your rights,” Jin-sahn said. “I find the notion of restricting information to you in this manner bordering upon the offensive, but I have sworn oaths before my Empress, and I have no choice but to obey.”
Akasha smiled slightly. “You can do no less. We understand that.”
“Do we?” Chen said darkly. “This is the honor that the Unicorn have received by having one of their own declared the Favored of the Heavens, and granted the position of Shogun of the Empire?”
“As partial compensation for the imposition I must make upon my clan,” Jin-sahn said, withdrawing a scroll from his obi, “I have secured documents from the Empress ensuring that once my duties within the forest are completed, any and all resources within the forest are to be overseen and adjudicated by the Unicorn as you see fit, my Khan.” He held the scroll out. “It is all I can do for you, Chen-sama. I am sorry.”
Chen hesitated, then took the scroll. “Imperial validation of a duty we have been performing for many years. Authority to use the resources that we protect in the Empress’ name would indeed be welcome.”
“I am bound by my oaths, but I will never betray the Unicorn as long as I draw breath,” Jin-sahn said. “I only pray that the Lords of Death will show me favor, and permit me to serve both my Empress and my Khan with equal dedication.”
“History proves that unlikely,” Chen said. “But if any man can succeed, it will be you.”
[Work in progress] Traduction des nouvelles d'AEG (listes)
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La nouvelle a été mise à disposition sur le site dans la section Bibliothèque.
Nous ne pouvons pas stocker de PDF dans cette section, c'est la raison pour laquelle c'est la version texte qui est affichée, je vais certainement mettre la version PDF accessible aussi mais je ne sais pas encore comment.
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A New Empire, Part III
By Rusty Priske, Nancy Sauer, and Lucas Twyman
Edited by Fred Wan
The Crane
The section of Kyuden Doji that served as the personal quarters for the Crane Champion was decorated in an elegant manner, with the furnishings, floral arrangements and wall scrolls carefully chosen to reflect both the lady’s personality and the wealth of her clan. Doji Kusari ignored it all as he made his way through the rooms — they told him nothing that he did not already know, and thus were of no account.
The rooms were also well-supplied with Daidoji yojimbo, and Kusari ignored them as well. Stopping to acknowledge one might draw the yojimbo’s attention away from his duty, and that would never do; Kusari had lost his first betrothed to dark murder and he had no intention of losing his wife and child-to-be in a similar fashion. Arriving at the door to Domotai’s private study he waited while Daidoji Kimpira, the head of her personal guard, looked him over carefully before sliding the door aside.
Kusari entered the room to find Domotai sitting on the study’s balcony, watching the morning sunlight play on the fading glory of the garden below. She was wrapped in a warm robe and held a journal in her lap. “Good morning, my wife. Does Kimpira ever sleep?”
Domotai laughed. “Good morning, my husband. I believe he sleeps in the middle of the day, but that is only a guess on my part — allowing me to know his schedule might constitute a security breach.” Kusari smiled at the wry humor in her voice. After the murder of Kitsuki Orika, Kimpira had quietly made changes to Kyuden Doji’s security, with the result that no one within the palace proper had died during the Night of the Assassins. Domotai did not like being followed around by her personal guard, but she no longer objected to them.
“He is a good samurai,” Kusari said. He knelt down next to her and rested a hand on the cushion between them.
“He brings great honor to his family,” Domotai agreed. She closed the journal and gently rested her hand on top of Kusari’s. “How did your mission to Mura Sabishii Toshi go?”
“Quite well. You were correct to send me to attend the final ceremonies for the passing of control from the Lion to the Crane. Naoharu’s agents had heard some talk of resentment from some of the Lion samurai there, but it was all swept away when it was announced that I was representing the Crane.” He paused, then changed the topic. “I heard that Nagori had left yesterday. Why so quickly? He can only have been back from the Tournament a few days.”
“He needed to make preparations for the Divine One’s Winter Court. It will be at Kyuden Bayushi, so there is little time.”
Kusari frowned. “The ‘Divine One’ — I do not understand how the Celestial Heavens could have selected her. I am sure she was honorable enough, for a Dragon, but the Lion Clan is filled with samurai just as honorable. And the men she has chosen to serve her? What good could she possibly find in them?”
“You doubt the actions of Heaven?”
“Say rather I am confused by them.”
“I am also confused,” Domotai said, “but I do not doubt. You would not doubt either, if you had spoken with Nagori.”
“What did he say?” Kusari had wanted to attend the Celestial Tournament, but Domotai had decided to send her older cousin as her representative instead.
“It was not what he said, but the way he spoke — his whole being. Your recall how crushed he was when Jorihime was killed?”
Kusari looked out into the garden, struggling with remembered grief. He had known exactly how Nagori felt after his wife’s death, had known what it was like to walk stone-faced and respectable though the duties of the day while inside his heart died. “I remember,” he said.
“He was changed, Kusari. He still misses Jorihime, but it is as if a great weight has been lifted from him.” Domotai smiled radiantly. “Whatever the Heavens found in her soul makes her worthy. And I am sure that she has chosen her representatives with some great purpose in mind.”
“I cannot doubt your testimony,” Kusari said. “But I fear that this purpose will make our clan’s position more tenuous in the Imperial City. She has not chosen a Crane to fill any position, or a samurai known to be friendly to the Crane.”
Domotai smiled again, but this time there was a calculating air to it. “No doubt many of our enemies are thinking such thoughts. And you were not born a Crane, so you would not know how disappointed they will be.”
“How so?” Kusari asked. “We can expect no kindness from the Chancellor or the Treasurer — and the Advisor is a ronin!” He could not keep the distaste from his voice.
“Kindness is not needed,” Domotai said. “When those men go to take up their positions, they will find that that their staffs — and the staffs of all the functionaries below them — are liberally filled with Crane courtiers. And those courtiers can not all be dismissed and replaced; they are capable and skilled, and have served the Throne with honor for years. Furthermore, to do so would anger all the lords and courtiers who the Cranes have traded favors with over the years. We do not control the top tier of the Imperial Court, and that indeed makes us weaker, but we are by no means without influence.”
“A multi-layered strategy,” Kusari said. “Akodo-kami would have approved.”
Before Domotai could reply there was a scratching sound at the door and Kimpira entered the room. “My lady, Naoharu-sama and your special magistrate have arrived. I have had them put them in the Wisteria Room.”
“Thank you, Kimpira-san,” Domotai said. “I will go down for our meeting in a few minutes.” She handed the journal carefully to Kusari and rose to her feet. “See that this is put in its place. We are not finished with it yet.”
Kusari nodded, feeling the weight of Toturi III’s words in his hands. “Do not fear, my wife. Our clan’s honor depends on it.”
* * * * *
Naoharu took a sip from his cup and raised an eyebrow. “Chrysanthemum petal tea?” he said.
Domotai nodded, putting her cup down. “We have a supply of real tea, to be used when visitors are present, but there is no point in trying to deceive either of you.”
“The Crab have used their lock on last year’s tea crop ruthlessly,” Fumisato said. “But with this year’s harvest coming on to the market the prices should drop.”
“Less than you would think,” Naoharu said. “Jinn-Kuen managed to negotiate several large multi-year contracts last year, and they will serve to keep the cost of tea high. The cost of supplying tea to the Crane winter courts will be breathtaking.”
“It can’t be helped,” Domotai said. “The Daidoji are pouring out their blood like it was water; the Doji will not flinch over mere koku.”
“Nevertheless Jinn-Kuen is a brilliant opponent, and he will continue to plague us.” Naoharu stopped for a sip of tea. “Perhaps something should be… done… about him.”
“The Crane do not deal in petty assassinations,” Domotai said. She smiled. “I have other plans for him.” Naoharu raised a polite eyebrow in inquiry, but Domotai turned her attention to the other man. “Fumisato-san, how goes the military front?”
“As well as can be expected, when one fights against the Crab. We have been pushed to the margins of the Yasuki provinces, but when they gather to drive us out of one area we infiltrate another. Their armies are larger than ours, and are filled with battle-hardened veterans — that is their advantage. Our clan’s courtiers have kept any other clan from helping the Crab overtly — nothing can stop the Mantis from trying to make a profit — and our maps of the province are far superior to theirs. Those are our advantages.”
“Superior maps?” Naoharu said. “How is that possible? The Crab have held that province for centuries.”
“The Crab Yasuki made maps that showed what was important to them — roads suitable for commerce, villages, profitable holdings. The rest of the clan paid it no attention, as there had never been a serious incursion from the Shadowlands there.” There was a note of disdain in Fumisato’s gravel voice over such tactical short-sightedness. “When Yasuki Hachi assumed control of the province he did what any Crane daimyo would do, and ordered maps — by the Daidoji notion of a map — made of his lands. When the Crab moved to seize the province, we made sure to seize the maps.”
“So the Crab have superior force, but have difficulties bringing it to bear. The Crane have the lesser force, but apply it effectively.” Naoharu sipped his tea. “My lady, forgive my ignorance on such things, but it seems to me that this is a way to avoid losing a war, not to win one.”
“If the Crane relied on military force alone that would be so,” Domotai said. “But we have the upper hand economically. The Crab control of the tea market hurts us, yes, but they cannot capitalize on it. Every koku they make has to go into buying supplies for the armies that man the Wall, and we control the markets for those supplies.”
“However much they bleed us, we can bleed them more.” Naoharu looked at her with admiration. “You are a hard woman, Lady Doji.”
“The Crab respect only strength, it is said. I will not shame my clan by flinching. The Daidoji are approaching the limit of their resources, but the Crab are depleting their supplies even faster.” Domotai picked up a small bundle of scrolls and handed them to him. “Our courtiers have been busy acquiring favors from other clans. Look over what we have here and see what you can use to hurt the Crab.”
“Your will, my lady,” Naoharu said. “I regret that Fate did not put Kaneka on his father’s throne — I think the two of you would have gotten along very well.”
“My relationship with Fate is somewhat troubled,” Domotai said. “Fumisato-san, does Zoushi need additional forces before winter sets in?”
“None beyond what he has already arranged for. We have planned out a number of operations to harass the Crab before the end of the season.”
“And the other matter? You have made progress on that?”
Fumisato nodded. “My time in the south has been very informative.”
“I do not question your methods — but it seems like this is taking some time.”
“We may only have one strike, Domotai-sama. It must then be flawless.”
“The way of the Crane,” Domotai said. “Let it be so, then.”
The Dragon
If a hawk were to fly over the northern edge of the Great Wall of the North, it would easily see the peak of Tenkenniyoru Yama, the second-largest mountain found in the boundaries of the Emerald Empire. However, even the keen eyes of a hawk would be hard-pressed to distinguish the rocky walls of the Furthest Fortress, the most remote outpost of the Dragon Clan, carved into its side. Designed by a direct ancestor of the Tamori family, the high walls of the ancient castle resemble a sheer cliffside, and the single winding path leading to its gates is lined with the assorted shifting detritus of a hundred passing caravans and rockslides caused by the partial yearly thawing of the snows above.
If the hawk were a curious and careful observer, it could follow the single trail of smoke from above the castle’s kitchen to the central heart of the small fortress - its courtyard, home of a few meager fruit trees and a sizeable vegetable garden. The dark, fertile soil of the courtyard stood out unnaturally against the stone mountainside, a testament to the most powerful of the Tamori family’s gifts: the ability to coax the earth into sustaining life where it seems unsustainable. The humble shugenja stationed at the Furthest Fortress gave daily thanks to the kami for this small miracle, but if Tamori Shimura paid any notice to this small miracle, he gave no indication. The shugenja stationed at this distant outpost had some small skill, but Shimura was yamabushi of a rank far beyond his years, a warrior and priest who, if needed, had the power to shake the core of Tenkenniyoru Yama itself. This was not lost on Mirumoto Kei as she stared at the young man from across the castle’s main threshold: in fact, the arrogance was etched so transparently on the young man’s features that she likely could have repeated his disdainful thoughts to him, verbatim.
“Less than a month ago, you were spared the remainder of your term on the northern watchtowers at the request of Lord Satsu himself,” Kei said, frowning, “and he placed enough trust in you that he allowed you to accompany him to the Celestial Tournament, where you witnessed the glorious ascension of the Empress.”
Shimura set his jaw and nodded, “Yes. A great honor.”
Kei rubbed her temple with her right hand, ignoring the blunt answer, and continued, “Then, you personally accompany the new Dragon Champion on her tour through each of the clan’s ancestral holdings, yet not once do you show more than the required courtesy, and at no point do you lose that sour expression on your face. One would almost think that you don’t appreciate the honor you have been shown.”
Slowly, the young shugenja raised an eyebrow as he met his Lady’s gaze, and bowed deeply. In a gravelly monotone, he whispered, “I apologize if I have slighted you in any way.”
Frowning, Kei stared at her vassal. She turned and beckoned for him to follow her deeper into the fortress. “This is a personal audience with your Champion, Shimura. My aides are either at the foot of the trail here or resting in their chambers. We are essentially alone until Berii arrives this evening. You have my leave to tell me what you are thinking.” Turning her head, Kei nodded to Shimura. “You will not be punished for speaking truth.”
Shimura paused his stride. “I… I wish to be returned to the front lines. When Lord Satsu called me from the border, I thought he wished me to help with investigation of the murder of my parents.”
Kei nodded, and motioned for him to follow her further, down a winding staircase into the heart of the mountain. “But he instead wanted you to accompany him to the Tournament, and now he is the Voice.”
Between gritted teeth, Shimura replied, “And his duty to the Empire is more pressing than the continued investigation of the deaths of the Tamori daimyo and an Elemental Master.”
Invisible in the shadowed passageway, Kei smiled. “Not entirely true. But I see that you share some of your mother’s unique oratory style, and a bit of the Earth’s dense nature.”
“My Lady?”
Placing an arm out to her side, Kei stopped abruptly. Shimura could see a strange mixture of bemusement and anger in her eyes as she turned to face him. “Shimura, do you really have no idea why you are here?”
Shimura averted his eyes, glancing at the stone steps. His champion took two steps back up the stairs and watched him as his eyes widened with realization.
“Adopted or no, Shimura,” Kei said, “you were chosen by Tamori Shaitung herself to be her designated heir. You were raised by her, groomed by her, and she never altered that decision before her death. Quite simply, Shimura, you are here because I wished to find out if the new daimyo of the Tamori is a fool or simply hard-headed.”
Shimura’s mouth was open slightly, his lips held apart by an uncertain mix between fear and laughter. Composing himself, he smiled sardonically, and replied, “I suppose that is for you to decide, my Lady.”
Kei narrowed her eyes. “I assure you that I will, Shimura.”
The Champion of the Dragon turned and continued downward. The staircase spiraled narrowly into the mountain, surrounded by a tunnel twice the height of the Dragon daimyo and capable of fitting three armored samurai shoulder-to-shoulder. At the staircase’s base, a pair of massive steel and iron doors stood, emblazoned with the mon of the Dragon Clan. A complex system of metal bars, bubbling liquids, and strange magical wards surrounded the doors, forming a massive lock to hold them shut.
“This is where we stop,” Kei said, looking up at the doors. “These doors and the vault behind them are called ‘The Final Riddle.’ Satsu took me here when I was named daimyo of the Mirumoto, and I believe him to be the one of the only living beings capable of opening these doors. The vault behind them is the reason for this fortress, the reason why the Clan tributes thousands of koku each year to maintain this outpost.”
Shimura frowned. “What is in the vault?”
Kei smiled at Shimura, then turned back to gaze up at the doors. “The Dark Oracles have been active in our mountains, Shimura. The Dark Oracle of Earth was killed near our border last month by a team of Isawa inquisitors. All the while, Chosai harries us from the north. What do you know of the Phoenix, Shimizu? Do you have contacts among them?”
“I know the Phoenix killed my birth parents, my Lady.”
Kei placed her hand to her chin. “Your father was a Phoenix, Shimizu.”
“My adopted father,” Shimura replied, scowling.
Kei shook her head sadly and unfurled a scroll. “Both your fathers, Shimura. How young were you when your parents died?”
“Four, my Lady.”
“Young Tamori Ichi,” Kei read, following along on the scroll with her finger, “first son of Tamori Toyo and Tamori Kanji, formerly Agasha Kanji of the Phoenix.” Kei looked up at Shimura sadly, and offered him the scroll. “Shaitung and Nakamuro married later in life and needed an heir, but they chose to adopt you for more than your potential with the kami. You may have healed the rifts between our clans, had your parents not died first.”
Shimura held the scroll limply, like something dead. “Which set of parents, my lady?”
Kei looked away from Shimura, towards the stairs. “Berii is your new opposite in the Kitsuki, Shimura. You are both to work to investigate our mountains - every hidden cave, every zokujin hole, every peak. If there is something the Dark Oracles want here, we must find it first. I want you to send a delegation to the Phoenix to find out what they have learned about the Oracles. No clan matches the insight of the Phoenix into the ways of the kami, but we are the Dragon. They may be upsetting the balance, and we among the Dragon are the ones who seem to be paying the price. Remember the kindness both clans have shown you, Shimura, but watch them closely.”
“Of course, my Lady,” Shimura said, bowing deeply before turning to ascend the stairs.
Kei placed her hands flat against the massive doors. She smiled as she recalled the sense of awe she felt when Satsu first revealed his glorious, golden dragonic form to her, and how the sound of his voice echoed in her mind as he swung the door open to reveal the empty vault: “There is nothing here, Kei, but a lesson. The vault is empty because that lesson has yet to be taught.”
The Spider
Daigotsu tapped on the arm of his great black throne, almost absent-mindedly. Shahai leaned over and said, “You seem distracted. What is it?”
A storm rippled across Daigotsu’s features, but he held it in check. She did not yet know what he knew. “There has been a resolution to the tournament by now. There should also be a new Emperor.” He then went silent.
Shahai knew what that meant. If the Spider had been victorious in the tournament, and the Heavens had chosen a follower of Fu Leng to lead the Empire, he would have known it. He would have felt it. “This does not change anything, my lord. You have made great strides in turning the Spider into a respected force among those simpletons in Rokugan. The Unicorn have pledged to champion our cause. Whoever is on the throne, it will make no difference. Our son will one day rule the land whether it is the Heavens’ will or not.”
Daigotsu scanned the underlings through the hall. They all maintained their distance, which gave the masters of this place some semblance of privacy. He spoke to Shahai without turning his head. “The samurai of Rokugan will writhe and suffer the way Fu Leng was forced to suffer. They claim to be devout, but know nothing of true devotion. When we stand as their equal, then we will show them that their lives have been just an illusion and jigoku will be their destiny.”
Shahai started to laugh - a guttural, unpleasant sound - when the great doors at the far end of the hall flung open. Two men, panting and sweating from their exertions, ran towards the throne. “Lord Daigotsu, we bring news!”
The Dark Lord waved the guards aside who moved to intercept them and said, “Usharo and Sahara. What happened? Where are the others?”
Sahara stopped, yards from the throne. “All is lost, Lord Daigotsu!”
“Stop babbling nonsense and tell me what happened!”
Usharo stopped Sahara’s words with a gesture and then said, “Apologies, Lord Daigotsu, but we came from Seppun Hill as quickly as we could.”
“Who was victorious?”
“Moto Jin-Sahn, but that is not the true news, Lord Daigotsu. The Voices of the Sun and Moon made a proclamation and have elevated a mortal to rule Rokugan as an extension of the gods.”
Daigotsu looked annoyed at Usharo’s inability to get to the point. “Well? Who is it?”
“Kitsuki Iweko.”
Shahai tilted her head to the side and looked at Daigotsu thoughtfully. “This is not the worst result. The Kitsuki are pragmatic. With the backing of the Unicorn we will be able to make our case and…”
Usharo cut her off. “No, my lady.”
Daigotsu’s eyes flashed with rage at his follower’s presumptiveness. “Explain yourself.”
Usharo nodded. “Iweko has taken Susumu prisoner. He was able to get a warning to me, though. She knows everything.”
Eyes widening, Daigotsu said, “What do you mean?”
“She knows what the Spider are. What we truly are. She knows that you are behind them and what you have been trying to accomplish.”
Daigotsu’s grip tightened on the arm of the throne. “And?”
“And she has outlawed the Spider clan. She has declared that anyone found bearing the Spider mon is to be killed on sight. Any former Spider bearing the mark of the taint will also be killed on sight. It is only the untainted, if they cast off allegiance to the Spider, who can remain alive.”
Daigotsu spit out the next words. “So you are safe then. Tear off that mon and break your oaths to me and you can go live among them, as a lapdog.”
As Usharo shook his head, Sahara said, “I would rather be torn apart by a pack of the Unicorn’s dogs then renounce you, Lord Daigotsu.”
“We are with you, Lord Daigotsu, to whatever end.” Usharo’s weariness vanished as if his devotion to Daigotsu had revitalized him somehow.
The Dark Lord did not acknowledge their pledges. “What else?”
“Iweko has named Jin-Sahn Shogun and has given him his first orders. He is to find us and eradicate us. We fled Seppun Hill with samurai on our tails. We separated from Katsu and Keigo to increase our chances of getting this news to you.”
Daigotsu stood and thought for a moment. “If she knows everything, then she likely knows where we are.”
Usharo nodded. “That was the impression Susumu gave, Lord.”
“All out war against all of Rokugan would not serve our purposes.” Daigotsu paused and then said, “I require solitude. Leave me.” He waved his arm over the various members of the court. None thought twice as they scrambled out of the large chamber, Usharo and Sahara bringing up the rear, closing the great doors behind them.
Daigotsu turned to where Shahai sat. She started to speak, “This is only a setback…” but Daigotsu cut her off.
“Even you, my love. Leave me.”
Shahai’s expression ran from surprise to disappointment to anger in mere moments before settling on resignation. She stood and bowed to Daigotsu, before leaving the great hall from a different entrance than the rest had.
Daigotsu waited until the hall was empty before stepping down off the dais and walking through the hall. He walked over to one of the great tapestries that adorned the chamber. It was made of black silk and showed a tree, stripped of any leaves or blossoms, also made of black silk. The black on black combination almost made it painful to look at, as if the pattern was trying to be elusive. The great hall was not brightly lit, so this effect was magnified.
Daigotsu grabbed on the tapestry and yanked it from where it hung and let it crash to the floor. He then moved to the next tapestry and repeated his actions. He moved all around the circumference of the room, pulling them down from the walls and letting them fall to the floor. He did so with no hint of anger. He acted methodically and passionlessly, at least to any who would have been able to see him. Yet these actions were not for any other eyes.
He then moved to each wall sconce and extinguished the flames there. After each one went dark, he pulled the sconces from the wall and let them crash to the floor. He left only one, casting a faint and flickering light across the large chamber.
He then cast a baleful glance at the great throne. The black stone seemed to have been carved directly out of the structure of Black Silk Castle. Daigotsu knew that was an illusion, but he recognized the symbol for what it was.
He drew on the power that he always felt. He summoned all the kansen within reach of his call and bade them to gather around him. Where they were normally unseen, now they flickered in a nimbus of energy, crackling and glowing, dwarfing the glow from the single torch.
Daigotsu strained under the power. Keeping the kansen bent to his will strained the limits of even his control. When he felt he could gather no more power he unleashed it at the throne.
The energy, as red as blood and as charged as pure lightning, erupted from where he stood and struck the throne. The stone was rent asunder, first cracking down the middle and then exploding in a shower of stone shards, filling the room. Daigotsu made no move to defend himself from the debris and a number of shards sliced into his skin, though he paid them no mind.
The red energy danced around the room for a moment and then vanished, leaving that single torch as light. “Why?” he whispered under his breath. “Why won’t you answer me? Why now, of all times? Have I not served you with absolute devotion?”
There was no answer. As there had not been for weeks.
Daigotsu, ignoring the trickles of blood on his face and arms, wrenched the remaining torch from its sconce and thrust it, still burning, into the closest fallen tapestry. He watched as it ignited and slowly spread from one tapestry to the next. He watched the flames until they completed a ring around what was his throne room. He then flung aside the great double doors and walked into the throng that waited outside, startled by the great explosion. As they saw the flames and the Dark Lord, they fell back, even the greatest among them cowed by the enormity of his wrath.
With the glow of the fire behind him, Daigotsu looked at his followers, as if daring one of them to make a sound. Finally he spoke, “Rokugan has a new Empress and she has condemned us. We have been condemned before.
“Rokugan has a new monarchy and it tells us we are not welcome. We have been told this before.
“Rokugan has renewed its devotion to the Celestial Heavens and we are told that Fu Leng is unworthy of similar reverence. We have been lied to before.
“This new Empress tries to divide us by promising leniency to those who do not bear the mark of Fu Leng and who cast off their devotion to me. Tear the Spider from your chest and grasp jade in your hands and you will be forgiven, as if one could forgive someone who so easily turns away from their brothers and their promises and their oaths.
“I tell Rokugan, no.”
A murmur of ‘no’ went through the crowd.
“I tell Rokugan that we will stand as one in the shadow of Fu Leng and we will not be dissuaded by your promises and threats. I tell them no.”
This time the sound of ‘no’ was much louder as the crowd picked up their leader’s call.
“I tell Rokugan that we will take our rightful place, just as Fu Leng will take his rightful place, and we will teach you who is the true power in this land. I tell them no!”
The crowd all but screamed “NO!” in response.
“They wish to hunt us down? We will not make it easy for them, and we will make them pay for each step they take. If the Shogun wants to come for us in the Shinomen Forest, let us make it easy for him to find his way…
“Burn down the forest! Leave no tree untouched!”
The Spider roared with approval and rushed to fulfill his command. For now, rage and passion would fill their hearts. By the time it had been quenched, and the notion of their gambit having failed returned to them, their Dark Lord would have new purpose for them. The answer was there, an opportunity dangling before him. He simply needed the time to uncover it, as he ever had.
* * *
Nintai stepped out of the shrine and watched the light filtering its way through the leaves and down to the forest floor. He stretched and ran his paws through his thick mane. He glanced at the figures in the trees. The Asp warriors who stood guard never entered Te’tik’kir’s shrine, but they also never let down their watch. Nothing could reach the structure without the Naga knowing about it.
Something odd reached the edge of Nintai’s perception, though. He sniffed the air and caught a hint of something unexpected. Before he could place the odor, however, there was a noise in the underbrush. The Kitsu looked towards the Naga and saw that they showed no concern over the noise. That was enough evidence to allow Nintai to know who it was.
Chi’kel, one of the few remaining Nezumi on the mainland of Rokugan, burst from the foliage and scampered to where Nintai stood. He was chattering excitedly in the language of his kind.
“Chi’kel!” Nintai put his paws out, trying to calm the excited Ratling. “What is it? You look like you have seen the return of the Blood Rain.”
The Nezumi stopped short and switched to the halting, broken version of Rokugani that the Ratlings were able to utter. “Danger! Danger, Nin’tai! Chi’kel must-must warn!”
Nintai furrowed his great brow. “Chi’kel, calm yourself enough to tell me. What is the danger?”
Chi’kel looked into the Kitsu eyes and took in three sharp breaths, trying to center himself. “It is the forest. It burns. The forest burns!”
Nintai moved away from Chi’kel, startled. He sniffed the air again, and this time was able to place the smell.
The Shinomen Forest was on fire.
By Rusty Priske, Nancy Sauer, and Lucas Twyman
Edited by Fred Wan
The Crane
The section of Kyuden Doji that served as the personal quarters for the Crane Champion was decorated in an elegant manner, with the furnishings, floral arrangements and wall scrolls carefully chosen to reflect both the lady’s personality and the wealth of her clan. Doji Kusari ignored it all as he made his way through the rooms — they told him nothing that he did not already know, and thus were of no account.
The rooms were also well-supplied with Daidoji yojimbo, and Kusari ignored them as well. Stopping to acknowledge one might draw the yojimbo’s attention away from his duty, and that would never do; Kusari had lost his first betrothed to dark murder and he had no intention of losing his wife and child-to-be in a similar fashion. Arriving at the door to Domotai’s private study he waited while Daidoji Kimpira, the head of her personal guard, looked him over carefully before sliding the door aside.
Kusari entered the room to find Domotai sitting on the study’s balcony, watching the morning sunlight play on the fading glory of the garden below. She was wrapped in a warm robe and held a journal in her lap. “Good morning, my wife. Does Kimpira ever sleep?”
Domotai laughed. “Good morning, my husband. I believe he sleeps in the middle of the day, but that is only a guess on my part — allowing me to know his schedule might constitute a security breach.” Kusari smiled at the wry humor in her voice. After the murder of Kitsuki Orika, Kimpira had quietly made changes to Kyuden Doji’s security, with the result that no one within the palace proper had died during the Night of the Assassins. Domotai did not like being followed around by her personal guard, but she no longer objected to them.
“He is a good samurai,” Kusari said. He knelt down next to her and rested a hand on the cushion between them.
“He brings great honor to his family,” Domotai agreed. She closed the journal and gently rested her hand on top of Kusari’s. “How did your mission to Mura Sabishii Toshi go?”
“Quite well. You were correct to send me to attend the final ceremonies for the passing of control from the Lion to the Crane. Naoharu’s agents had heard some talk of resentment from some of the Lion samurai there, but it was all swept away when it was announced that I was representing the Crane.” He paused, then changed the topic. “I heard that Nagori had left yesterday. Why so quickly? He can only have been back from the Tournament a few days.”
“He needed to make preparations for the Divine One’s Winter Court. It will be at Kyuden Bayushi, so there is little time.”
Kusari frowned. “The ‘Divine One’ — I do not understand how the Celestial Heavens could have selected her. I am sure she was honorable enough, for a Dragon, but the Lion Clan is filled with samurai just as honorable. And the men she has chosen to serve her? What good could she possibly find in them?”
“You doubt the actions of Heaven?”
“Say rather I am confused by them.”
“I am also confused,” Domotai said, “but I do not doubt. You would not doubt either, if you had spoken with Nagori.”
“What did he say?” Kusari had wanted to attend the Celestial Tournament, but Domotai had decided to send her older cousin as her representative instead.
“It was not what he said, but the way he spoke — his whole being. Your recall how crushed he was when Jorihime was killed?”
Kusari looked out into the garden, struggling with remembered grief. He had known exactly how Nagori felt after his wife’s death, had known what it was like to walk stone-faced and respectable though the duties of the day while inside his heart died. “I remember,” he said.
“He was changed, Kusari. He still misses Jorihime, but it is as if a great weight has been lifted from him.” Domotai smiled radiantly. “Whatever the Heavens found in her soul makes her worthy. And I am sure that she has chosen her representatives with some great purpose in mind.”
“I cannot doubt your testimony,” Kusari said. “But I fear that this purpose will make our clan’s position more tenuous in the Imperial City. She has not chosen a Crane to fill any position, or a samurai known to be friendly to the Crane.”
Domotai smiled again, but this time there was a calculating air to it. “No doubt many of our enemies are thinking such thoughts. And you were not born a Crane, so you would not know how disappointed they will be.”
“How so?” Kusari asked. “We can expect no kindness from the Chancellor or the Treasurer — and the Advisor is a ronin!” He could not keep the distaste from his voice.
“Kindness is not needed,” Domotai said. “When those men go to take up their positions, they will find that that their staffs — and the staffs of all the functionaries below them — are liberally filled with Crane courtiers. And those courtiers can not all be dismissed and replaced; they are capable and skilled, and have served the Throne with honor for years. Furthermore, to do so would anger all the lords and courtiers who the Cranes have traded favors with over the years. We do not control the top tier of the Imperial Court, and that indeed makes us weaker, but we are by no means without influence.”
“A multi-layered strategy,” Kusari said. “Akodo-kami would have approved.”
Before Domotai could reply there was a scratching sound at the door and Kimpira entered the room. “My lady, Naoharu-sama and your special magistrate have arrived. I have had them put them in the Wisteria Room.”
“Thank you, Kimpira-san,” Domotai said. “I will go down for our meeting in a few minutes.” She handed the journal carefully to Kusari and rose to her feet. “See that this is put in its place. We are not finished with it yet.”
Kusari nodded, feeling the weight of Toturi III’s words in his hands. “Do not fear, my wife. Our clan’s honor depends on it.”
* * * * *
Naoharu took a sip from his cup and raised an eyebrow. “Chrysanthemum petal tea?” he said.
Domotai nodded, putting her cup down. “We have a supply of real tea, to be used when visitors are present, but there is no point in trying to deceive either of you.”
“The Crab have used their lock on last year’s tea crop ruthlessly,” Fumisato said. “But with this year’s harvest coming on to the market the prices should drop.”
“Less than you would think,” Naoharu said. “Jinn-Kuen managed to negotiate several large multi-year contracts last year, and they will serve to keep the cost of tea high. The cost of supplying tea to the Crane winter courts will be breathtaking.”
“It can’t be helped,” Domotai said. “The Daidoji are pouring out their blood like it was water; the Doji will not flinch over mere koku.”
“Nevertheless Jinn-Kuen is a brilliant opponent, and he will continue to plague us.” Naoharu stopped for a sip of tea. “Perhaps something should be… done… about him.”
“The Crane do not deal in petty assassinations,” Domotai said. She smiled. “I have other plans for him.” Naoharu raised a polite eyebrow in inquiry, but Domotai turned her attention to the other man. “Fumisato-san, how goes the military front?”
“As well as can be expected, when one fights against the Crab. We have been pushed to the margins of the Yasuki provinces, but when they gather to drive us out of one area we infiltrate another. Their armies are larger than ours, and are filled with battle-hardened veterans — that is their advantage. Our clan’s courtiers have kept any other clan from helping the Crab overtly — nothing can stop the Mantis from trying to make a profit — and our maps of the province are far superior to theirs. Those are our advantages.”
“Superior maps?” Naoharu said. “How is that possible? The Crab have held that province for centuries.”
“The Crab Yasuki made maps that showed what was important to them — roads suitable for commerce, villages, profitable holdings. The rest of the clan paid it no attention, as there had never been a serious incursion from the Shadowlands there.” There was a note of disdain in Fumisato’s gravel voice over such tactical short-sightedness. “When Yasuki Hachi assumed control of the province he did what any Crane daimyo would do, and ordered maps — by the Daidoji notion of a map — made of his lands. When the Crab moved to seize the province, we made sure to seize the maps.”
“So the Crab have superior force, but have difficulties bringing it to bear. The Crane have the lesser force, but apply it effectively.” Naoharu sipped his tea. “My lady, forgive my ignorance on such things, but it seems to me that this is a way to avoid losing a war, not to win one.”
“If the Crane relied on military force alone that would be so,” Domotai said. “But we have the upper hand economically. The Crab control of the tea market hurts us, yes, but they cannot capitalize on it. Every koku they make has to go into buying supplies for the armies that man the Wall, and we control the markets for those supplies.”
“However much they bleed us, we can bleed them more.” Naoharu looked at her with admiration. “You are a hard woman, Lady Doji.”
“The Crab respect only strength, it is said. I will not shame my clan by flinching. The Daidoji are approaching the limit of their resources, but the Crab are depleting their supplies even faster.” Domotai picked up a small bundle of scrolls and handed them to him. “Our courtiers have been busy acquiring favors from other clans. Look over what we have here and see what you can use to hurt the Crab.”
“Your will, my lady,” Naoharu said. “I regret that Fate did not put Kaneka on his father’s throne — I think the two of you would have gotten along very well.”
“My relationship with Fate is somewhat troubled,” Domotai said. “Fumisato-san, does Zoushi need additional forces before winter sets in?”
“None beyond what he has already arranged for. We have planned out a number of operations to harass the Crab before the end of the season.”
“And the other matter? You have made progress on that?”
Fumisato nodded. “My time in the south has been very informative.”
“I do not question your methods — but it seems like this is taking some time.”
“We may only have one strike, Domotai-sama. It must then be flawless.”
“The way of the Crane,” Domotai said. “Let it be so, then.”
The Dragon
If a hawk were to fly over the northern edge of the Great Wall of the North, it would easily see the peak of Tenkenniyoru Yama, the second-largest mountain found in the boundaries of the Emerald Empire. However, even the keen eyes of a hawk would be hard-pressed to distinguish the rocky walls of the Furthest Fortress, the most remote outpost of the Dragon Clan, carved into its side. Designed by a direct ancestor of the Tamori family, the high walls of the ancient castle resemble a sheer cliffside, and the single winding path leading to its gates is lined with the assorted shifting detritus of a hundred passing caravans and rockslides caused by the partial yearly thawing of the snows above.
If the hawk were a curious and careful observer, it could follow the single trail of smoke from above the castle’s kitchen to the central heart of the small fortress - its courtyard, home of a few meager fruit trees and a sizeable vegetable garden. The dark, fertile soil of the courtyard stood out unnaturally against the stone mountainside, a testament to the most powerful of the Tamori family’s gifts: the ability to coax the earth into sustaining life where it seems unsustainable. The humble shugenja stationed at the Furthest Fortress gave daily thanks to the kami for this small miracle, but if Tamori Shimura paid any notice to this small miracle, he gave no indication. The shugenja stationed at this distant outpost had some small skill, but Shimura was yamabushi of a rank far beyond his years, a warrior and priest who, if needed, had the power to shake the core of Tenkenniyoru Yama itself. This was not lost on Mirumoto Kei as she stared at the young man from across the castle’s main threshold: in fact, the arrogance was etched so transparently on the young man’s features that she likely could have repeated his disdainful thoughts to him, verbatim.
“Less than a month ago, you were spared the remainder of your term on the northern watchtowers at the request of Lord Satsu himself,” Kei said, frowning, “and he placed enough trust in you that he allowed you to accompany him to the Celestial Tournament, where you witnessed the glorious ascension of the Empress.”
Shimura set his jaw and nodded, “Yes. A great honor.”
Kei rubbed her temple with her right hand, ignoring the blunt answer, and continued, “Then, you personally accompany the new Dragon Champion on her tour through each of the clan’s ancestral holdings, yet not once do you show more than the required courtesy, and at no point do you lose that sour expression on your face. One would almost think that you don’t appreciate the honor you have been shown.”
Slowly, the young shugenja raised an eyebrow as he met his Lady’s gaze, and bowed deeply. In a gravelly monotone, he whispered, “I apologize if I have slighted you in any way.”
Frowning, Kei stared at her vassal. She turned and beckoned for him to follow her deeper into the fortress. “This is a personal audience with your Champion, Shimura. My aides are either at the foot of the trail here or resting in their chambers. We are essentially alone until Berii arrives this evening. You have my leave to tell me what you are thinking.” Turning her head, Kei nodded to Shimura. “You will not be punished for speaking truth.”
Shimura paused his stride. “I… I wish to be returned to the front lines. When Lord Satsu called me from the border, I thought he wished me to help with investigation of the murder of my parents.”
Kei nodded, and motioned for him to follow her further, down a winding staircase into the heart of the mountain. “But he instead wanted you to accompany him to the Tournament, and now he is the Voice.”
Between gritted teeth, Shimura replied, “And his duty to the Empire is more pressing than the continued investigation of the deaths of the Tamori daimyo and an Elemental Master.”
Invisible in the shadowed passageway, Kei smiled. “Not entirely true. But I see that you share some of your mother’s unique oratory style, and a bit of the Earth’s dense nature.”
“My Lady?”
Placing an arm out to her side, Kei stopped abruptly. Shimura could see a strange mixture of bemusement and anger in her eyes as she turned to face him. “Shimura, do you really have no idea why you are here?”
Shimura averted his eyes, glancing at the stone steps. His champion took two steps back up the stairs and watched him as his eyes widened with realization.
“Adopted or no, Shimura,” Kei said, “you were chosen by Tamori Shaitung herself to be her designated heir. You were raised by her, groomed by her, and she never altered that decision before her death. Quite simply, Shimura, you are here because I wished to find out if the new daimyo of the Tamori is a fool or simply hard-headed.”
Shimura’s mouth was open slightly, his lips held apart by an uncertain mix between fear and laughter. Composing himself, he smiled sardonically, and replied, “I suppose that is for you to decide, my Lady.”
Kei narrowed her eyes. “I assure you that I will, Shimura.”
The Champion of the Dragon turned and continued downward. The staircase spiraled narrowly into the mountain, surrounded by a tunnel twice the height of the Dragon daimyo and capable of fitting three armored samurai shoulder-to-shoulder. At the staircase’s base, a pair of massive steel and iron doors stood, emblazoned with the mon of the Dragon Clan. A complex system of metal bars, bubbling liquids, and strange magical wards surrounded the doors, forming a massive lock to hold them shut.
“This is where we stop,” Kei said, looking up at the doors. “These doors and the vault behind them are called ‘The Final Riddle.’ Satsu took me here when I was named daimyo of the Mirumoto, and I believe him to be the one of the only living beings capable of opening these doors. The vault behind them is the reason for this fortress, the reason why the Clan tributes thousands of koku each year to maintain this outpost.”
Shimura frowned. “What is in the vault?”
Kei smiled at Shimura, then turned back to gaze up at the doors. “The Dark Oracles have been active in our mountains, Shimura. The Dark Oracle of Earth was killed near our border last month by a team of Isawa inquisitors. All the while, Chosai harries us from the north. What do you know of the Phoenix, Shimizu? Do you have contacts among them?”
“I know the Phoenix killed my birth parents, my Lady.”
Kei placed her hand to her chin. “Your father was a Phoenix, Shimizu.”
“My adopted father,” Shimura replied, scowling.
Kei shook her head sadly and unfurled a scroll. “Both your fathers, Shimura. How young were you when your parents died?”
“Four, my Lady.”
“Young Tamori Ichi,” Kei read, following along on the scroll with her finger, “first son of Tamori Toyo and Tamori Kanji, formerly Agasha Kanji of the Phoenix.” Kei looked up at Shimura sadly, and offered him the scroll. “Shaitung and Nakamuro married later in life and needed an heir, but they chose to adopt you for more than your potential with the kami. You may have healed the rifts between our clans, had your parents not died first.”
Shimura held the scroll limply, like something dead. “Which set of parents, my lady?”
Kei looked away from Shimura, towards the stairs. “Berii is your new opposite in the Kitsuki, Shimura. You are both to work to investigate our mountains - every hidden cave, every zokujin hole, every peak. If there is something the Dark Oracles want here, we must find it first. I want you to send a delegation to the Phoenix to find out what they have learned about the Oracles. No clan matches the insight of the Phoenix into the ways of the kami, but we are the Dragon. They may be upsetting the balance, and we among the Dragon are the ones who seem to be paying the price. Remember the kindness both clans have shown you, Shimura, but watch them closely.”
“Of course, my Lady,” Shimura said, bowing deeply before turning to ascend the stairs.
Kei placed her hands flat against the massive doors. She smiled as she recalled the sense of awe she felt when Satsu first revealed his glorious, golden dragonic form to her, and how the sound of his voice echoed in her mind as he swung the door open to reveal the empty vault: “There is nothing here, Kei, but a lesson. The vault is empty because that lesson has yet to be taught.”
The Spider
Daigotsu tapped on the arm of his great black throne, almost absent-mindedly. Shahai leaned over and said, “You seem distracted. What is it?”
A storm rippled across Daigotsu’s features, but he held it in check. She did not yet know what he knew. “There has been a resolution to the tournament by now. There should also be a new Emperor.” He then went silent.
Shahai knew what that meant. If the Spider had been victorious in the tournament, and the Heavens had chosen a follower of Fu Leng to lead the Empire, he would have known it. He would have felt it. “This does not change anything, my lord. You have made great strides in turning the Spider into a respected force among those simpletons in Rokugan. The Unicorn have pledged to champion our cause. Whoever is on the throne, it will make no difference. Our son will one day rule the land whether it is the Heavens’ will or not.”
Daigotsu scanned the underlings through the hall. They all maintained their distance, which gave the masters of this place some semblance of privacy. He spoke to Shahai without turning his head. “The samurai of Rokugan will writhe and suffer the way Fu Leng was forced to suffer. They claim to be devout, but know nothing of true devotion. When we stand as their equal, then we will show them that their lives have been just an illusion and jigoku will be their destiny.”
Shahai started to laugh - a guttural, unpleasant sound - when the great doors at the far end of the hall flung open. Two men, panting and sweating from their exertions, ran towards the throne. “Lord Daigotsu, we bring news!”
The Dark Lord waved the guards aside who moved to intercept them and said, “Usharo and Sahara. What happened? Where are the others?”
Sahara stopped, yards from the throne. “All is lost, Lord Daigotsu!”
“Stop babbling nonsense and tell me what happened!”
Usharo stopped Sahara’s words with a gesture and then said, “Apologies, Lord Daigotsu, but we came from Seppun Hill as quickly as we could.”
“Who was victorious?”
“Moto Jin-Sahn, but that is not the true news, Lord Daigotsu. The Voices of the Sun and Moon made a proclamation and have elevated a mortal to rule Rokugan as an extension of the gods.”
Daigotsu looked annoyed at Usharo’s inability to get to the point. “Well? Who is it?”
“Kitsuki Iweko.”
Shahai tilted her head to the side and looked at Daigotsu thoughtfully. “This is not the worst result. The Kitsuki are pragmatic. With the backing of the Unicorn we will be able to make our case and…”
Usharo cut her off. “No, my lady.”
Daigotsu’s eyes flashed with rage at his follower’s presumptiveness. “Explain yourself.”
Usharo nodded. “Iweko has taken Susumu prisoner. He was able to get a warning to me, though. She knows everything.”
Eyes widening, Daigotsu said, “What do you mean?”
“She knows what the Spider are. What we truly are. She knows that you are behind them and what you have been trying to accomplish.”
Daigotsu’s grip tightened on the arm of the throne. “And?”
“And she has outlawed the Spider clan. She has declared that anyone found bearing the Spider mon is to be killed on sight. Any former Spider bearing the mark of the taint will also be killed on sight. It is only the untainted, if they cast off allegiance to the Spider, who can remain alive.”
Daigotsu spit out the next words. “So you are safe then. Tear off that mon and break your oaths to me and you can go live among them, as a lapdog.”
As Usharo shook his head, Sahara said, “I would rather be torn apart by a pack of the Unicorn’s dogs then renounce you, Lord Daigotsu.”
“We are with you, Lord Daigotsu, to whatever end.” Usharo’s weariness vanished as if his devotion to Daigotsu had revitalized him somehow.
The Dark Lord did not acknowledge their pledges. “What else?”
“Iweko has named Jin-Sahn Shogun and has given him his first orders. He is to find us and eradicate us. We fled Seppun Hill with samurai on our tails. We separated from Katsu and Keigo to increase our chances of getting this news to you.”
Daigotsu stood and thought for a moment. “If she knows everything, then she likely knows where we are.”
Usharo nodded. “That was the impression Susumu gave, Lord.”
“All out war against all of Rokugan would not serve our purposes.” Daigotsu paused and then said, “I require solitude. Leave me.” He waved his arm over the various members of the court. None thought twice as they scrambled out of the large chamber, Usharo and Sahara bringing up the rear, closing the great doors behind them.
Daigotsu turned to where Shahai sat. She started to speak, “This is only a setback…” but Daigotsu cut her off.
“Even you, my love. Leave me.”
Shahai’s expression ran from surprise to disappointment to anger in mere moments before settling on resignation. She stood and bowed to Daigotsu, before leaving the great hall from a different entrance than the rest had.
Daigotsu waited until the hall was empty before stepping down off the dais and walking through the hall. He walked over to one of the great tapestries that adorned the chamber. It was made of black silk and showed a tree, stripped of any leaves or blossoms, also made of black silk. The black on black combination almost made it painful to look at, as if the pattern was trying to be elusive. The great hall was not brightly lit, so this effect was magnified.
Daigotsu grabbed on the tapestry and yanked it from where it hung and let it crash to the floor. He then moved to the next tapestry and repeated his actions. He moved all around the circumference of the room, pulling them down from the walls and letting them fall to the floor. He did so with no hint of anger. He acted methodically and passionlessly, at least to any who would have been able to see him. Yet these actions were not for any other eyes.
He then moved to each wall sconce and extinguished the flames there. After each one went dark, he pulled the sconces from the wall and let them crash to the floor. He left only one, casting a faint and flickering light across the large chamber.
He then cast a baleful glance at the great throne. The black stone seemed to have been carved directly out of the structure of Black Silk Castle. Daigotsu knew that was an illusion, but he recognized the symbol for what it was.
He drew on the power that he always felt. He summoned all the kansen within reach of his call and bade them to gather around him. Where they were normally unseen, now they flickered in a nimbus of energy, crackling and glowing, dwarfing the glow from the single torch.
Daigotsu strained under the power. Keeping the kansen bent to his will strained the limits of even his control. When he felt he could gather no more power he unleashed it at the throne.
The energy, as red as blood and as charged as pure lightning, erupted from where he stood and struck the throne. The stone was rent asunder, first cracking down the middle and then exploding in a shower of stone shards, filling the room. Daigotsu made no move to defend himself from the debris and a number of shards sliced into his skin, though he paid them no mind.
The red energy danced around the room for a moment and then vanished, leaving that single torch as light. “Why?” he whispered under his breath. “Why won’t you answer me? Why now, of all times? Have I not served you with absolute devotion?”
There was no answer. As there had not been for weeks.
Daigotsu, ignoring the trickles of blood on his face and arms, wrenched the remaining torch from its sconce and thrust it, still burning, into the closest fallen tapestry. He watched as it ignited and slowly spread from one tapestry to the next. He watched the flames until they completed a ring around what was his throne room. He then flung aside the great double doors and walked into the throng that waited outside, startled by the great explosion. As they saw the flames and the Dark Lord, they fell back, even the greatest among them cowed by the enormity of his wrath.
With the glow of the fire behind him, Daigotsu looked at his followers, as if daring one of them to make a sound. Finally he spoke, “Rokugan has a new Empress and she has condemned us. We have been condemned before.
“Rokugan has a new monarchy and it tells us we are not welcome. We have been told this before.
“Rokugan has renewed its devotion to the Celestial Heavens and we are told that Fu Leng is unworthy of similar reverence. We have been lied to before.
“This new Empress tries to divide us by promising leniency to those who do not bear the mark of Fu Leng and who cast off their devotion to me. Tear the Spider from your chest and grasp jade in your hands and you will be forgiven, as if one could forgive someone who so easily turns away from their brothers and their promises and their oaths.
“I tell Rokugan, no.”
A murmur of ‘no’ went through the crowd.
“I tell Rokugan that we will stand as one in the shadow of Fu Leng and we will not be dissuaded by your promises and threats. I tell them no.”
This time the sound of ‘no’ was much louder as the crowd picked up their leader’s call.
“I tell Rokugan that we will take our rightful place, just as Fu Leng will take his rightful place, and we will teach you who is the true power in this land. I tell them no!”
The crowd all but screamed “NO!” in response.
“They wish to hunt us down? We will not make it easy for them, and we will make them pay for each step they take. If the Shogun wants to come for us in the Shinomen Forest, let us make it easy for him to find his way…
“Burn down the forest! Leave no tree untouched!”
The Spider roared with approval and rushed to fulfill his command. For now, rage and passion would fill their hearts. By the time it had been quenched, and the notion of their gambit having failed returned to them, their Dark Lord would have new purpose for them. The answer was there, an opportunity dangling before him. He simply needed the time to uncover it, as he ever had.
* * *
Nintai stepped out of the shrine and watched the light filtering its way through the leaves and down to the forest floor. He stretched and ran his paws through his thick mane. He glanced at the figures in the trees. The Asp warriors who stood guard never entered Te’tik’kir’s shrine, but they also never let down their watch. Nothing could reach the structure without the Naga knowing about it.
Something odd reached the edge of Nintai’s perception, though. He sniffed the air and caught a hint of something unexpected. Before he could place the odor, however, there was a noise in the underbrush. The Kitsu looked towards the Naga and saw that they showed no concern over the noise. That was enough evidence to allow Nintai to know who it was.
Chi’kel, one of the few remaining Nezumi on the mainland of Rokugan, burst from the foliage and scampered to where Nintai stood. He was chattering excitedly in the language of his kind.
“Chi’kel!” Nintai put his paws out, trying to calm the excited Ratling. “What is it? You look like you have seen the return of the Blood Rain.”
The Nezumi stopped short and switched to the halting, broken version of Rokugani that the Ratlings were able to utter. “Danger! Danger, Nin’tai! Chi’kel must-must warn!”
Nintai furrowed his great brow. “Chi’kel, calm yourself enough to tell me. What is the danger?”
Chi’kel looked into the Kitsu eyes and took in three sharp breaths, trying to center himself. “It is the forest. It burns. The forest burns!”
Nintai moved away from Chi’kel, startled. He sniffed the air again, and this time was able to place the smell.
The Shinomen Forest was on fire.
-
Soshi Yabu
- Diplomate
- Messages : 2452
- Inscription : 19 juin 2004, 13:26
Shadows in the Forest
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Kyuden Bayushi, the Month of the Boar
Although the Winter Court of the Emperor was normally convened at least a month earlier, sometimes even longer, there was little in recent memory that could match the fanfare associated with the convening of the first Winter Court of the Divine Empress Iweko I. Her ascension to the throne only weeks behind her, the Empress had apparently instructed her Imperial Advisor to make all the arrangements on the day of her coronation, and Bayushi Hisoka had gladly complied. For all that the announcement of its location had come only days ago, it appeared as though the great palace of the Scorpion Clan had been in preparation for this event for months.
That was entirely possible, Kitsuki Taiko decided. The Scorpion were nothing if not thorough in the formulation of their plans. She would not be surprised if there were other, similar sights prepared throughout their lands, or if they had also spent a great deal of time preparing to travel to another clan’s lands to conduct their affairs at court with the expected zeal. The Scorpion and the Dragon had been allies for generations, but in particular the Kitsuki family had always had somewhat tense relationships with them, and Taiko had never found herself particularly well disposed toward them as a whole.
“Little hummingbird.”
The comment fairly dripped with oily charm and not a little condescension, and yet for all that Taiko could not help but blush slightly. It was maddening, and she hated it, but it was unavoidable. “Of all the places I thought I would safe from you,” she said in a low voice, “I thought surely Winter Court was the best option.”
Kakita Hideo glided into the edge of her vision, emerging from behind a column. “I have not seen you for almost two months. I could not bear it any longer.” He flashed that accursed grin. “Say that you did not miss me, and surely my heart will be broken forever.”
Taiko shook her head. “It is good to see you,” she said. “I honestly did not expect to find you here, however.” She glanced around for a moment. “What of your… your…”
“My disgrace?” he finished for her. “Alleviated somewhat, but not entirely erased. We shall see what comes of that, I suppose.”
“Alleviated,” she repeated. “I am glad to hear of it. What happened?”
“After the unfortunate business in the forest, Kitsune Ryukan was kind enough to write a formal letter to my lord thanking me for my assistance during the troubled times.”
Taiko raised her eyebrows. “Improving relations between the Crane and the Fox would be an accomplishment of note for anyone. Surely that was sufficient for them to forgive your lack of decorum at the Emerald Championship?”
“Unfortunately no,” Hideo said. “Ryukan-sama also saw fit to offer a handful of choice insults to the clan in the process. The value of any diplomatic progress made as part of my presence there is… questionable. No, in spite of our best efforts, relations between the Crane and the Kitsune have always been poor.”
“I see,” Taiko said, frowning. “How is it you gained admittance to the Winter Court, then?”
“I have a patron. I am among her attendants.” His tone was strangely subdued, and showed none of his customary smarm. “I lead quite the blessed life, it seems.”
Taiko began to respond, but stopped as another Crane emerged into the small antechamber and cast about for a second before her gaze settled on the young man. “Hideo-san,” she said, her voice perfectly cool, “did you prepare the documents I requested?”
Hideo bowed. “I did, my lady. They await your approval in the office adjoining your chambers.”
“Very good,” she said. “See me after mid-day meal. There are messages I need delivered among the various delegations before court is convened in the morning.”
“Of course, Kensho-in-sama.”
Taiko struggled not to look at the glassy, stone-like hand that adorned Kakita Kensho-in’s hand. It was difficult, but fortunately the other woman turned and left with nothing more than a cursory nod to the young Dragon. “That is your patron?”
“Indeed.”
Taiko shuddered. “And have you discovered her pliable to your remarkable charm?”
“I have made no attempt to do so,” Hideo said. “There are some things that should never be fought, I think.” He smiled, but it was not as warm as usual. He was quiet for a moment, and then, “Have you spoken to anyone about what happened?”
“I completed a report and submitted it to the Kitsuki records, as is appropriate for such an endeavor,” Taiko said. “I wrote a letter to my Champion as well, but I expect nothing to come of it. The matter is concluded.”
“That is not what I mean,” Hideo said. His voice was just above a whisper. “Have you spoken of what we saw?”
Taiko fixed him with an icy glare. “We swore an oath,” she said. “Would you ask me if I am so honorless as to have broken it already?”
Hideo shook his head. “I have not either, but I long to.” He ran a hand through his hair absently. “I still see it. When I sleep.”
“Do not speak of it further,” Taiko said. “I do not want to think of it.”
But of course that was impossible.
* * *
The Kitsune Mori, two months earlier
Hiruma Aki bellowed with rage as he swung his sword wildly. It was a massive no-dachi, half again as large as any other such blade, but in the hands of Aki it seemed perfectly normal sized. It had been crafted especially for his father, who had been a giant of a man that had dwarfed even Aki himself. For all his strength and prowess, however, Aki was losing this battle, and the knowledge of it drove him nearly mad with rage and frustration.
The berserker snarled and swung again, but his opponent flitted among the shadows and seemed to fade into the forest like smoke. Aki’s strike hit a small tree and cut completely through its trunk, dropping the top half to the forest floor with a crash. “Face me!” he roared. “Cowards!”
“I do not think they take insult easily!” Yoritomo Saburo shouted back. He had his twin weapons at the ready and was fighting in a more defensive stance. As Aki watched it seemed to draw the enemy out from the bushes to attack him, making them slightly more vulnerable. He frowned at the unfamiliar nature of the tactic, but assumed what he thought was a defensive stance and resolved to attempt it himself.
For weeks now, the two samurai and their companions had been playing deadly games of cat and mouse with the mysterious assailants in the forest. They encountered them only sporadically, and only ever when they were unaccompanied by their Kitsune hosts. The Kitsune family had continued to offer their hospitality without complaint for months, despite that they had not witnessed an incursion by the mysterious enemies since the arrival of the Mantis Clan occupation forces nearly a year previously. To the Kitsune, the matter was closed, and it was largely only their respect for the parent clans of Saburo and his colleagues that they had been allowed to remain.
In the months he had been in the woods, Aki had grown more and more frustrated with the elusive nature of his opponents. There had been perhaps five encounters all together, and none of htem had been conclusive. Every time, his enemies disappeared into the forest, sometimes simply by diving into the underbrush or vanishing behind a tree. Aki longed for battle and victory. “Come on,” he growled almost to himself, his voice nothing but a whisper. “Come on. Come to me!”
One of them stepped from the darkest recesses of the forest canopy, then another, and then a third. When they emerged from the darkness, so flawless was their ability that it seemed almost like they materialized rather than simply revealed themselves. It was as if they did not exist at all until the moment you were looking at one. In the heavily filtered light they seemed… faded. The cloth obscuring their every feature had no color. Even their blades seemed to be empty of any substance. But they were deadly enough.
The three advancing toward him stopped suddenly and glanced at one another in rapid succession. Then they began to take a slow step backwards, then another. Something had happened, and they were withdrawing. Already the two in the rear had disappeared back into the canopy’s shadow, and were gone. The third, the one that had been first to advance on Aki, took another step closer to the shadows, but remained in the light.
“No!” Aki shouted. He lunged forward, bringing his blade down in an overhead strike that would surely have shattered stone. His assailant was caught momentarily off guard, as he had been turning to disappear into the shadows. The blade struck him atop his left shoulder and, amazingly, Aki felt a tug of resistance as the steel met something of actual substance. There was a high-pitched shriek that seemed strangely like the cry of a locust, and the cloaked bandit fell to the ground in a writhing heap.
“Fortunes!” Aki swore.
Saburo was there in an instant, his assailants having disappeared just as the other two Aki had been facing. His eyes widened. “What is it?” he whispered. He reached down slowly as if to touch it, transfixed by what he was seeing.
“No!” Aki shouted, pulling the other man away by the shoulder and nearly tossing him across the tiny clearing in the process. “Do not touch him!”
Saburo stared at the Crab blankly, then shook his head as if struggling to clear his thoughts. “What… what is it?”
Aki looked back down at his assailant. The man was writing in the sunlit grass, torn open from shoulder to hip by the force of Aki’s strike. It should have killed him instantly, but the man still lived. No blood seeped from his grievous wound. Instead, an ink-like substance flowed from him into the grass, where it pooled briefly before dissipating like fog in the morning sun. “I have never seen anything like this,” he said quietly, “but I have heard something of it.”
“Too late,” the dying thing on the ground whispered. “Too late, too late, too late. The prophet… is ours.” Then it was gone. It seemed to melt into the grass, but unlike the others that disappeared into the forest, there was a sense of finality to this one. This was death, not escape.
“We have never killed one,” Saburo said. “I have never seen that. Never even seen one wounded. What happened?”
Mutely Aki withdrew a small satchel from his obi and opened it. Within was contained a number of items that he had been sent from home at his request, including several fingers of jade, an assortment of spirit ribbons from the Toritaka hunters, and one other item. He lifted that one now and showed it to the Mantis. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “The prophet,” he said.
The two men ran.
* * *
“Stop,” Utaku Kohana said suddenly, holding her hand out.
The others inside the small residence all obliged, looking at her strangely. One among them, a young Scorpion whose features were obscured by a large mask, tilted his head to the side. “Excuse me?”
The Unicorn again waved for him to be silent. He bristled visibly at the gesture, but said nothing. Perhaps it was her tone, or the expression on her face, but something had assured him that she was not being trivial. Or perhaps he had simply grown as tired of bickering with Hideo as the others had grown tired of listening to it.
“What is it?” Taiko asked asked. Her voice was soft, just above a whisper, and almost musical in its quality. Kohana had arrived the day before to offer the Khan’s congratulations to the Kitsune daimyo on the impending marriage of his niece to the Mantis Champion, but already she and Taiko had become kindred spirits.
“There is no noise,” Kohana said. “None at all.”
The others listened to the abject silence of the late afternoon. Despite that the vast majority of the village was in attendance at the Kitsune daimyo’s court, the sounds of the forest were normally almost overwhelming. Those who had dwelled within the village for some months had grown accustomed to them, and now the silence was strangely disconcerting. “Something is wrong,” Bayushi Eisaku said.
The wooden walls of the structure’s front exploded inward, and the bodies of the two Kitsune sentries were cast within like children’s toys. Both landed in terribly contorted positions and did not move. Behind them came the all too familiar forms of the mysterious assailants from the woods, enemies that none among the Kitsune had laid eyes upon for months.
“Sons of Winter!” Hideo spat, leaping to battle with his blade drawn.
“Well, well,” Eisaku said. “Perhaps you are not fools after all. Fortunate that my lord Nomen decided to leave in the morning rather than earlier today!”
“Be silent and fight!” Kohana said. “Idiotic men.”
The fighting was fierce and difficult in such an enclosed space. Despite the afternoon sun, the interior of the building was strangely dark. The Sons of Winter attacked without mercy or any apparent sense of self-preservation, a trait that they seemed to have little need of, for they did not appear to suffer from wounds inflicted by their combatants. Even Eisaku quieted after a moment, consumed with the fury of a battle that seemed impossible to win.
With a ferocious shout, Aki and Saburo burst through the ruined remnants of the front wall. The Sons turned to face them, their demeanor suddenly concerned. Aki cut through a pair of them with a single strike, and Saburo felled one with a twin kama strike to the chest. Those felled by the two newcomers did not rise.
The Sons were trapped, pinned beneath a wall of steel that would not move, a wall headed by Hideo and Eisaku fighting back to back, and the unstoppable force of the Crab and Mantis warriors who had stormed into their presence. Saburo shouted in surprise and pain as one cut his shoulder deeply with a short blade, but repaid his assailant with death. One bearing a crude club of some sort caught the Scorpion off guard with a glance blow to the side of his head, but Hideo staved off the death blow and Aki dispatched the creature at once.
And then it was over, as quickly as it had begun, leaving the chamber ruined by violence and thick with the scent of blood.
Taiko put her wakizashi away shakily. “Is everyone all right? Bayushi-san?”
Hideo lifted the man’s mask away and checked for signs of life. “He breathes yet,” he said. “There is a lot of blood, but the wound appears minor.”
Taiko nodded and looked to Kohana. The young Unicorn was inspecting Aki’s wounded shoulder, and she nodded once, quickly. That wound, too, was not serious, much to Taiko’s relief. “Saburo?”
The Mantis draped a scrap of cloth over the eyes of one of the two fallen sentries. “Dead,” he said. “They were likely dead the moment they were struck.”
“I struck two at least that could not have lived,” Hideo said, gesturing to the dissipating pools of inky blackness that vaguely resembled the outlines of men, “and yet just as before, they seemed to barely notice. How did you kill them?”
Saburo nodded toward the wounded Aki. “Our friend here sent word back to his family that he had discovered something he could not kill. As it turns out, the Crab love a challenge. Show them the bag.”
Aki opened the satchel at his belt with his good hand, wincing slightly at the pain in his wounded shoulder. He dumped the contents on the floor in front of him. “Spirit ribbons, fingers of jade, a few ritual scrolls… none of which has any apparent effect.” He paused and pulled out a small item. “This was effective, however.” He tossed it to Kohana. “I gave one to Saburo as well, as you might have guessed.”
Kohana turned the small object over in her hands. It was a personal chop, an old one from the look of it. It was wooden, with an intricately carved stone seal on one end and a small, crystal adornment on the other. “Crystal,” she whispered. “The Lying Darkness.”
Hardly, a voice whispered all around them. That particular entity is long gone, having returned to the nothingness from which it was comprised decades ago. No, I am its successor, and one far more suited to this manner of endeavor, I think.
“Who speaks?” Hideo demanded, lowering Eisaku’s head to the floor and taking up his blade. “Who is there?”
I am not ‘there,’ as you say, no more than I am truly anywhere. The voice seemed to chuckle as if at children. I have been within this forest for quite some time. It first came to my attention when I slew the previous Fox Champion. I have no name that the men and women of Rokugan have ever heard, but if it pleases you, for the final moments of your life you may call me… the Shadow Dragon.
“This is some manner of trickery,” Kohana said. “These men, your compatriots, are no more than cultists or blood sorcerers, as Saburo said.”
Once, perhaps, the voice agree. Now, however… so much more than that. I called them from the depths of the darkness that is mine to command, consumed as they were by my predecessor before it was unmade. The day outside the building darkened as if it were night, and tendrils of darkness began to wind inside the building. Since my prize was lost to me by the accursed Legion of the Dead, I thought perhaps the portals to the Realm of Animals contained within this wood would be of use. Can you imagine the ability to perceive everything seen by the animals of this world? To control them from afar? It would have been glorious.
“The Kitsune will stop you,” Saburo hissed.
Stop me? Do not be ridiculous. No one believes that a threat still exists except for you precious, annoying few. And that will not be the case much longer. The voice was not particularly threatening, speaking instead as if merely stating fact. Regardless, my goals have changed, as I believe your clever magistrate suspects.
The others turned toward Taiko, who had paled. “You want the prophet.”
Of course! The voice seemed delighted, and the tendrils were now in all parts of the room, moving about almost at random, completely oblivious to the attempts of the warriors to stop them. The power to see what will come of this new Dynasty? The power to foresee the actions of the clans? What could be greater? My power will be without end.
The tendrils parted the curtain that separated the room from the chamber where the prophet rested. Aki bellowed and lunged forward, lifting his blade, but a casual twitch from one of the tendrils of darkness sent him crashing across the room to shatter a table. You shall be my witnesses, the Dragon said. You shall watch my ascension, and then I shall destroy you. I am afraid my penchant for the dramatic causes me no end of complications, but I cannot resist an audience. I will be with you in just one moment, children.
“What do we do?” Kohana shouted. “Taiko, what do we do? Aki?”
“I don’t… I don’t know!” Taiko said, her eyes swimming with tears. “We cannot stop it!”
“The crystal,” Aki said, getting shakily to his feet. “It did not… did not hurt it.”
“It is beyond such things,” Taiko said. “We cannot hope to harm it.”
There was a gurgle of pain from the adjoining room, then a soft, hissing laughter that made all their blood run cold. Hideo’s grip tightened on the blade, and he looked to the others. Saburo and Kohana both nodded as Taiko helped Aki to his feet, and the group braced to charge the room. “May the Fortunes forgive us for what we must do,” Hideo whispered.
“No,” Saburo said, shouldering past Hideo. “She is Kitsune. I am Mantis. It must fall to me.”
As the group took their first, fateful step toward the prophet’s chambers, the sinister, hissing laughter stopped abruptly, cut off with an unmistakable if inarticulate sound of confusion and surprise. It was immediately replaced with not a single scream of pain, but two in perfect harmony; one inhuman and as horrible as the laughter had been, the other that of a young woman.
“Narako-san!” Saburo shouted, and he rushed through the curtain without hesitation. The others followed close behind.
Kitsune Narako, the greatest prophet born to the Empire of Rokugan in perhaps centuries, was standing above her mat, floating in the air. The tendrils of shadow encircled her now, writing as if in great pain. Her eyes were open, but they did not see, covered as they were with a thick membrane of white. “She looked like this when she issued the First Prophecy,” Taiko whispered.
Narako screamed a second time, likewise accompanied by the dragon’s own scream, and the thick stuff of shadow spilled forth from her mouth. It spread throughout the room like a fog, billowing into every corner until those standing within it could see nothing of what surrounded them. And in the darkness, shapes took form.
Fire burned throughout the mountains.
A wall lay shattered and burned.
The dead walked throughout the Empire.
A god made mortal held parlay with the fallen.
And somewhere far away, something horrible moved toward the Empire. In its wake was nothing but death, chaos, and ruin.
A third scream pierced the late afternoon, this one made only by the dragon. Shadow erupted from every part of Narako’s body, and the tendrils fled as if terribly burned by some great purity. The darkness was gone, and the room was there again, but somehow diminished. Narako fell to her mat and struggled to rise.
“Easy,” Kohana said softly stepping to her side. “All is well. Do not try to move.”
“Tell no one!” Narako burst out, her eyes wild with terror. “Tell no one! You must not!”
“Why not, prophet?” Taiko asked. “The Empire must be warned.”
“Only the Empress must know,” Narako said, her voice shaking. “To tell any other is to ensure their ruin. All who hear the word save the Empress will come to ruin and death. If you honor your families, if you honor your clans, you will not speak of this save to the Empress!”
“Empress?” Hideo asked. “What Empress?”
“The tournament,” Saburo said. “Did you not hear the proclamation two days ago?”
“That was not the Kaiu Wall,” Aki insisted. “It shall never fall. The Khol wall, perhaps?”
“Be silent!” Kohana hissed. “Narako-san, what else? Please, what else?”
“Your blood…” the prophet whispered, but then her eyes rolled back into her head and she went limp.
* * *
“I have no wish to think of it either,” Hideo said. “But the oath to tell no one… it troubles me greatly.”
“Do you think me not troubled?” Iweko asked bitterly.
“The Empress is your kinsmen,” Hideo said. “Surely you can gain access to speak with her?”
“She is my eighth cousin by marriage. Three marriages, actually,” Iweko said. “The Empress does not grant audiences to those of my rank. Not without reason.”
“We have reason,” Hideo insisted. “If we speak of it to our Champions…”
“Then we doom them to ruin,” Iweko said. “That is what the prophet said. Have you ever known her to be wrong? Even by the slimmest of measures? I will not doom my family and Champion to death when it may yet be prevented.”
“An honorable samurai does not withhold the truth from his lord,” Hideo said.
“If your Lady Domotai had a son who indulged in vice and cowardice, would you speak of it to her?” Iweko demanded. “Would you shame her with the truth?”
The Crane warrior began to retort, but looked away. “No,” he answered. “No, I would not.”
“This is no different,” Iweko said. “We must be vigilant. Our opportunity will come, and on that day we will share all that we know with the Empress. If she demands our lives for the secrecy we keep, then I will gladly give it in exchange for the opportunity to speak to her the truth.”
Hideo shook his head slowly. “I suppose in the meantime we should maintain a vigil for the prophet as well.”
“No, that will not be necessary.”
The two samurai turned to see a familiar face, although one clad in much more splendid attire than that to which they had become accustomed. “Saburo-san,” Taiko said with a bow. “It is good to see you again.”
“And you as well,” Saburo said, returning the bow. “I regret that I alone can offer you the gratitude that my entire clan owes you but, as you said, we can not speak of the truth just yet. The Mantis know only that you assisted in protecting the prophet from one last attack by the bandits from the forest, who managed to escape after a short skirmish.”
Taiko smiled. “My reports say much the same.”
“However,” Saburo continued, “your continued presence in the Kitsune provinces will not be necessary. The prophet will no longer be available to any save the Mantis, and those whom the Empress requires. To allow outsiders is too great a risk?”
“A risk?” Hideo was exasperated. “Us? A risk to the prophet?”
“Exceptions cannot be permitted,” Saburo said. “I hope you understand. There has been too much strain on her blessed talents. The First Prophecy incapacitated her for almost a week. Who knows how long this Second Prophecy will lay her low? If there is to be a Third or subsequent prophecies, then they will be heard and recorded by the Mantis alone. So valuable a treasure will not be lost to the benefit of others.”
“You speak as if we exploited her for our own benefit,” Taiko said bitterly. “As if we were little more than ambitious opportunists.”
“I do not mean to imply such,” Saburo said. “But the prophet, her gifts, and her security are a matter for the Mantis Clan now. If you find offense in this I can but apologize, but it changes nothing.” He stopped and bowed. “The Mantis will ever consider you allies for your efforts, and once the truth is known, you will be lauded as heroes. You are welcome in our lands always, save for Prophet Village, where none are welcome.” He rose and smiled. “I bid you good day, my friends.”
*
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Kyuden Bayushi, the Month of the Boar
Although the Winter Court of the Emperor was normally convened at least a month earlier, sometimes even longer, there was little in recent memory that could match the fanfare associated with the convening of the first Winter Court of the Divine Empress Iweko I. Her ascension to the throne only weeks behind her, the Empress had apparently instructed her Imperial Advisor to make all the arrangements on the day of her coronation, and Bayushi Hisoka had gladly complied. For all that the announcement of its location had come only days ago, it appeared as though the great palace of the Scorpion Clan had been in preparation for this event for months.
That was entirely possible, Kitsuki Taiko decided. The Scorpion were nothing if not thorough in the formulation of their plans. She would not be surprised if there were other, similar sights prepared throughout their lands, or if they had also spent a great deal of time preparing to travel to another clan’s lands to conduct their affairs at court with the expected zeal. The Scorpion and the Dragon had been allies for generations, but in particular the Kitsuki family had always had somewhat tense relationships with them, and Taiko had never found herself particularly well disposed toward them as a whole.
“Little hummingbird.”
The comment fairly dripped with oily charm and not a little condescension, and yet for all that Taiko could not help but blush slightly. It was maddening, and she hated it, but it was unavoidable. “Of all the places I thought I would safe from you,” she said in a low voice, “I thought surely Winter Court was the best option.”
Kakita Hideo glided into the edge of her vision, emerging from behind a column. “I have not seen you for almost two months. I could not bear it any longer.” He flashed that accursed grin. “Say that you did not miss me, and surely my heart will be broken forever.”
Taiko shook her head. “It is good to see you,” she said. “I honestly did not expect to find you here, however.” She glanced around for a moment. “What of your… your…”
“My disgrace?” he finished for her. “Alleviated somewhat, but not entirely erased. We shall see what comes of that, I suppose.”
“Alleviated,” she repeated. “I am glad to hear of it. What happened?”
“After the unfortunate business in the forest, Kitsune Ryukan was kind enough to write a formal letter to my lord thanking me for my assistance during the troubled times.”
Taiko raised her eyebrows. “Improving relations between the Crane and the Fox would be an accomplishment of note for anyone. Surely that was sufficient for them to forgive your lack of decorum at the Emerald Championship?”
“Unfortunately no,” Hideo said. “Ryukan-sama also saw fit to offer a handful of choice insults to the clan in the process. The value of any diplomatic progress made as part of my presence there is… questionable. No, in spite of our best efforts, relations between the Crane and the Kitsune have always been poor.”
“I see,” Taiko said, frowning. “How is it you gained admittance to the Winter Court, then?”
“I have a patron. I am among her attendants.” His tone was strangely subdued, and showed none of his customary smarm. “I lead quite the blessed life, it seems.”
Taiko began to respond, but stopped as another Crane emerged into the small antechamber and cast about for a second before her gaze settled on the young man. “Hideo-san,” she said, her voice perfectly cool, “did you prepare the documents I requested?”
Hideo bowed. “I did, my lady. They await your approval in the office adjoining your chambers.”
“Very good,” she said. “See me after mid-day meal. There are messages I need delivered among the various delegations before court is convened in the morning.”
“Of course, Kensho-in-sama.”
Taiko struggled not to look at the glassy, stone-like hand that adorned Kakita Kensho-in’s hand. It was difficult, but fortunately the other woman turned and left with nothing more than a cursory nod to the young Dragon. “That is your patron?”
“Indeed.”
Taiko shuddered. “And have you discovered her pliable to your remarkable charm?”
“I have made no attempt to do so,” Hideo said. “There are some things that should never be fought, I think.” He smiled, but it was not as warm as usual. He was quiet for a moment, and then, “Have you spoken to anyone about what happened?”
“I completed a report and submitted it to the Kitsuki records, as is appropriate for such an endeavor,” Taiko said. “I wrote a letter to my Champion as well, but I expect nothing to come of it. The matter is concluded.”
“That is not what I mean,” Hideo said. His voice was just above a whisper. “Have you spoken of what we saw?”
Taiko fixed him with an icy glare. “We swore an oath,” she said. “Would you ask me if I am so honorless as to have broken it already?”
Hideo shook his head. “I have not either, but I long to.” He ran a hand through his hair absently. “I still see it. When I sleep.”
“Do not speak of it further,” Taiko said. “I do not want to think of it.”
But of course that was impossible.
* * *
The Kitsune Mori, two months earlier
Hiruma Aki bellowed with rage as he swung his sword wildly. It was a massive no-dachi, half again as large as any other such blade, but in the hands of Aki it seemed perfectly normal sized. It had been crafted especially for his father, who had been a giant of a man that had dwarfed even Aki himself. For all his strength and prowess, however, Aki was losing this battle, and the knowledge of it drove him nearly mad with rage and frustration.
The berserker snarled and swung again, but his opponent flitted among the shadows and seemed to fade into the forest like smoke. Aki’s strike hit a small tree and cut completely through its trunk, dropping the top half to the forest floor with a crash. “Face me!” he roared. “Cowards!”
“I do not think they take insult easily!” Yoritomo Saburo shouted back. He had his twin weapons at the ready and was fighting in a more defensive stance. As Aki watched it seemed to draw the enemy out from the bushes to attack him, making them slightly more vulnerable. He frowned at the unfamiliar nature of the tactic, but assumed what he thought was a defensive stance and resolved to attempt it himself.
For weeks now, the two samurai and their companions had been playing deadly games of cat and mouse with the mysterious assailants in the forest. They encountered them only sporadically, and only ever when they were unaccompanied by their Kitsune hosts. The Kitsune family had continued to offer their hospitality without complaint for months, despite that they had not witnessed an incursion by the mysterious enemies since the arrival of the Mantis Clan occupation forces nearly a year previously. To the Kitsune, the matter was closed, and it was largely only their respect for the parent clans of Saburo and his colleagues that they had been allowed to remain.
In the months he had been in the woods, Aki had grown more and more frustrated with the elusive nature of his opponents. There had been perhaps five encounters all together, and none of htem had been conclusive. Every time, his enemies disappeared into the forest, sometimes simply by diving into the underbrush or vanishing behind a tree. Aki longed for battle and victory. “Come on,” he growled almost to himself, his voice nothing but a whisper. “Come on. Come to me!”
One of them stepped from the darkest recesses of the forest canopy, then another, and then a third. When they emerged from the darkness, so flawless was their ability that it seemed almost like they materialized rather than simply revealed themselves. It was as if they did not exist at all until the moment you were looking at one. In the heavily filtered light they seemed… faded. The cloth obscuring their every feature had no color. Even their blades seemed to be empty of any substance. But they were deadly enough.
The three advancing toward him stopped suddenly and glanced at one another in rapid succession. Then they began to take a slow step backwards, then another. Something had happened, and they were withdrawing. Already the two in the rear had disappeared back into the canopy’s shadow, and were gone. The third, the one that had been first to advance on Aki, took another step closer to the shadows, but remained in the light.
“No!” Aki shouted. He lunged forward, bringing his blade down in an overhead strike that would surely have shattered stone. His assailant was caught momentarily off guard, as he had been turning to disappear into the shadows. The blade struck him atop his left shoulder and, amazingly, Aki felt a tug of resistance as the steel met something of actual substance. There was a high-pitched shriek that seemed strangely like the cry of a locust, and the cloaked bandit fell to the ground in a writhing heap.
“Fortunes!” Aki swore.
Saburo was there in an instant, his assailants having disappeared just as the other two Aki had been facing. His eyes widened. “What is it?” he whispered. He reached down slowly as if to touch it, transfixed by what he was seeing.
“No!” Aki shouted, pulling the other man away by the shoulder and nearly tossing him across the tiny clearing in the process. “Do not touch him!”
Saburo stared at the Crab blankly, then shook his head as if struggling to clear his thoughts. “What… what is it?”
Aki looked back down at his assailant. The man was writing in the sunlit grass, torn open from shoulder to hip by the force of Aki’s strike. It should have killed him instantly, but the man still lived. No blood seeped from his grievous wound. Instead, an ink-like substance flowed from him into the grass, where it pooled briefly before dissipating like fog in the morning sun. “I have never seen anything like this,” he said quietly, “but I have heard something of it.”
“Too late,” the dying thing on the ground whispered. “Too late, too late, too late. The prophet… is ours.” Then it was gone. It seemed to melt into the grass, but unlike the others that disappeared into the forest, there was a sense of finality to this one. This was death, not escape.
“We have never killed one,” Saburo said. “I have never seen that. Never even seen one wounded. What happened?”
Mutely Aki withdrew a small satchel from his obi and opened it. Within was contained a number of items that he had been sent from home at his request, including several fingers of jade, an assortment of spirit ribbons from the Toritaka hunters, and one other item. He lifted that one now and showed it to the Mantis. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “The prophet,” he said.
The two men ran.
* * *
“Stop,” Utaku Kohana said suddenly, holding her hand out.
The others inside the small residence all obliged, looking at her strangely. One among them, a young Scorpion whose features were obscured by a large mask, tilted his head to the side. “Excuse me?”
The Unicorn again waved for him to be silent. He bristled visibly at the gesture, but said nothing. Perhaps it was her tone, or the expression on her face, but something had assured him that she was not being trivial. Or perhaps he had simply grown as tired of bickering with Hideo as the others had grown tired of listening to it.
“What is it?” Taiko asked asked. Her voice was soft, just above a whisper, and almost musical in its quality. Kohana had arrived the day before to offer the Khan’s congratulations to the Kitsune daimyo on the impending marriage of his niece to the Mantis Champion, but already she and Taiko had become kindred spirits.
“There is no noise,” Kohana said. “None at all.”
The others listened to the abject silence of the late afternoon. Despite that the vast majority of the village was in attendance at the Kitsune daimyo’s court, the sounds of the forest were normally almost overwhelming. Those who had dwelled within the village for some months had grown accustomed to them, and now the silence was strangely disconcerting. “Something is wrong,” Bayushi Eisaku said.
The wooden walls of the structure’s front exploded inward, and the bodies of the two Kitsune sentries were cast within like children’s toys. Both landed in terribly contorted positions and did not move. Behind them came the all too familiar forms of the mysterious assailants from the woods, enemies that none among the Kitsune had laid eyes upon for months.
“Sons of Winter!” Hideo spat, leaping to battle with his blade drawn.
“Well, well,” Eisaku said. “Perhaps you are not fools after all. Fortunate that my lord Nomen decided to leave in the morning rather than earlier today!”
“Be silent and fight!” Kohana said. “Idiotic men.”
The fighting was fierce and difficult in such an enclosed space. Despite the afternoon sun, the interior of the building was strangely dark. The Sons of Winter attacked without mercy or any apparent sense of self-preservation, a trait that they seemed to have little need of, for they did not appear to suffer from wounds inflicted by their combatants. Even Eisaku quieted after a moment, consumed with the fury of a battle that seemed impossible to win.
With a ferocious shout, Aki and Saburo burst through the ruined remnants of the front wall. The Sons turned to face them, their demeanor suddenly concerned. Aki cut through a pair of them with a single strike, and Saburo felled one with a twin kama strike to the chest. Those felled by the two newcomers did not rise.
The Sons were trapped, pinned beneath a wall of steel that would not move, a wall headed by Hideo and Eisaku fighting back to back, and the unstoppable force of the Crab and Mantis warriors who had stormed into their presence. Saburo shouted in surprise and pain as one cut his shoulder deeply with a short blade, but repaid his assailant with death. One bearing a crude club of some sort caught the Scorpion off guard with a glance blow to the side of his head, but Hideo staved off the death blow and Aki dispatched the creature at once.
And then it was over, as quickly as it had begun, leaving the chamber ruined by violence and thick with the scent of blood.
Taiko put her wakizashi away shakily. “Is everyone all right? Bayushi-san?”
Hideo lifted the man’s mask away and checked for signs of life. “He breathes yet,” he said. “There is a lot of blood, but the wound appears minor.”
Taiko nodded and looked to Kohana. The young Unicorn was inspecting Aki’s wounded shoulder, and she nodded once, quickly. That wound, too, was not serious, much to Taiko’s relief. “Saburo?”
The Mantis draped a scrap of cloth over the eyes of one of the two fallen sentries. “Dead,” he said. “They were likely dead the moment they were struck.”
“I struck two at least that could not have lived,” Hideo said, gesturing to the dissipating pools of inky blackness that vaguely resembled the outlines of men, “and yet just as before, they seemed to barely notice. How did you kill them?”
Saburo nodded toward the wounded Aki. “Our friend here sent word back to his family that he had discovered something he could not kill. As it turns out, the Crab love a challenge. Show them the bag.”
Aki opened the satchel at his belt with his good hand, wincing slightly at the pain in his wounded shoulder. He dumped the contents on the floor in front of him. “Spirit ribbons, fingers of jade, a few ritual scrolls… none of which has any apparent effect.” He paused and pulled out a small item. “This was effective, however.” He tossed it to Kohana. “I gave one to Saburo as well, as you might have guessed.”
Kohana turned the small object over in her hands. It was a personal chop, an old one from the look of it. It was wooden, with an intricately carved stone seal on one end and a small, crystal adornment on the other. “Crystal,” she whispered. “The Lying Darkness.”
Hardly, a voice whispered all around them. That particular entity is long gone, having returned to the nothingness from which it was comprised decades ago. No, I am its successor, and one far more suited to this manner of endeavor, I think.
“Who speaks?” Hideo demanded, lowering Eisaku’s head to the floor and taking up his blade. “Who is there?”
I am not ‘there,’ as you say, no more than I am truly anywhere. The voice seemed to chuckle as if at children. I have been within this forest for quite some time. It first came to my attention when I slew the previous Fox Champion. I have no name that the men and women of Rokugan have ever heard, but if it pleases you, for the final moments of your life you may call me… the Shadow Dragon.
“This is some manner of trickery,” Kohana said. “These men, your compatriots, are no more than cultists or blood sorcerers, as Saburo said.”
Once, perhaps, the voice agree. Now, however… so much more than that. I called them from the depths of the darkness that is mine to command, consumed as they were by my predecessor before it was unmade. The day outside the building darkened as if it were night, and tendrils of darkness began to wind inside the building. Since my prize was lost to me by the accursed Legion of the Dead, I thought perhaps the portals to the Realm of Animals contained within this wood would be of use. Can you imagine the ability to perceive everything seen by the animals of this world? To control them from afar? It would have been glorious.
“The Kitsune will stop you,” Saburo hissed.
Stop me? Do not be ridiculous. No one believes that a threat still exists except for you precious, annoying few. And that will not be the case much longer. The voice was not particularly threatening, speaking instead as if merely stating fact. Regardless, my goals have changed, as I believe your clever magistrate suspects.
The others turned toward Taiko, who had paled. “You want the prophet.”
Of course! The voice seemed delighted, and the tendrils were now in all parts of the room, moving about almost at random, completely oblivious to the attempts of the warriors to stop them. The power to see what will come of this new Dynasty? The power to foresee the actions of the clans? What could be greater? My power will be without end.
The tendrils parted the curtain that separated the room from the chamber where the prophet rested. Aki bellowed and lunged forward, lifting his blade, but a casual twitch from one of the tendrils of darkness sent him crashing across the room to shatter a table. You shall be my witnesses, the Dragon said. You shall watch my ascension, and then I shall destroy you. I am afraid my penchant for the dramatic causes me no end of complications, but I cannot resist an audience. I will be with you in just one moment, children.
“What do we do?” Kohana shouted. “Taiko, what do we do? Aki?”
“I don’t… I don’t know!” Taiko said, her eyes swimming with tears. “We cannot stop it!”
“The crystal,” Aki said, getting shakily to his feet. “It did not… did not hurt it.”
“It is beyond such things,” Taiko said. “We cannot hope to harm it.”
There was a gurgle of pain from the adjoining room, then a soft, hissing laughter that made all their blood run cold. Hideo’s grip tightened on the blade, and he looked to the others. Saburo and Kohana both nodded as Taiko helped Aki to his feet, and the group braced to charge the room. “May the Fortunes forgive us for what we must do,” Hideo whispered.
“No,” Saburo said, shouldering past Hideo. “She is Kitsune. I am Mantis. It must fall to me.”
As the group took their first, fateful step toward the prophet’s chambers, the sinister, hissing laughter stopped abruptly, cut off with an unmistakable if inarticulate sound of confusion and surprise. It was immediately replaced with not a single scream of pain, but two in perfect harmony; one inhuman and as horrible as the laughter had been, the other that of a young woman.
“Narako-san!” Saburo shouted, and he rushed through the curtain without hesitation. The others followed close behind.
Kitsune Narako, the greatest prophet born to the Empire of Rokugan in perhaps centuries, was standing above her mat, floating in the air. The tendrils of shadow encircled her now, writing as if in great pain. Her eyes were open, but they did not see, covered as they were with a thick membrane of white. “She looked like this when she issued the First Prophecy,” Taiko whispered.
Narako screamed a second time, likewise accompanied by the dragon’s own scream, and the thick stuff of shadow spilled forth from her mouth. It spread throughout the room like a fog, billowing into every corner until those standing within it could see nothing of what surrounded them. And in the darkness, shapes took form.
Fire burned throughout the mountains.
A wall lay shattered and burned.
The dead walked throughout the Empire.
A god made mortal held parlay with the fallen.
And somewhere far away, something horrible moved toward the Empire. In its wake was nothing but death, chaos, and ruin.
A third scream pierced the late afternoon, this one made only by the dragon. Shadow erupted from every part of Narako’s body, and the tendrils fled as if terribly burned by some great purity. The darkness was gone, and the room was there again, but somehow diminished. Narako fell to her mat and struggled to rise.
“Easy,” Kohana said softly stepping to her side. “All is well. Do not try to move.”
“Tell no one!” Narako burst out, her eyes wild with terror. “Tell no one! You must not!”
“Why not, prophet?” Taiko asked. “The Empire must be warned.”
“Only the Empress must know,” Narako said, her voice shaking. “To tell any other is to ensure their ruin. All who hear the word save the Empress will come to ruin and death. If you honor your families, if you honor your clans, you will not speak of this save to the Empress!”
“Empress?” Hideo asked. “What Empress?”
“The tournament,” Saburo said. “Did you not hear the proclamation two days ago?”
“That was not the Kaiu Wall,” Aki insisted. “It shall never fall. The Khol wall, perhaps?”
“Be silent!” Kohana hissed. “Narako-san, what else? Please, what else?”
“Your blood…” the prophet whispered, but then her eyes rolled back into her head and she went limp.
* * *
“I have no wish to think of it either,” Hideo said. “But the oath to tell no one… it troubles me greatly.”
“Do you think me not troubled?” Iweko asked bitterly.
“The Empress is your kinsmen,” Hideo said. “Surely you can gain access to speak with her?”
“She is my eighth cousin by marriage. Three marriages, actually,” Iweko said. “The Empress does not grant audiences to those of my rank. Not without reason.”
“We have reason,” Hideo insisted. “If we speak of it to our Champions…”
“Then we doom them to ruin,” Iweko said. “That is what the prophet said. Have you ever known her to be wrong? Even by the slimmest of measures? I will not doom my family and Champion to death when it may yet be prevented.”
“An honorable samurai does not withhold the truth from his lord,” Hideo said.
“If your Lady Domotai had a son who indulged in vice and cowardice, would you speak of it to her?” Iweko demanded. “Would you shame her with the truth?”
The Crane warrior began to retort, but looked away. “No,” he answered. “No, I would not.”
“This is no different,” Iweko said. “We must be vigilant. Our opportunity will come, and on that day we will share all that we know with the Empress. If she demands our lives for the secrecy we keep, then I will gladly give it in exchange for the opportunity to speak to her the truth.”
Hideo shook his head slowly. “I suppose in the meantime we should maintain a vigil for the prophet as well.”
“No, that will not be necessary.”
The two samurai turned to see a familiar face, although one clad in much more splendid attire than that to which they had become accustomed. “Saburo-san,” Taiko said with a bow. “It is good to see you again.”
“And you as well,” Saburo said, returning the bow. “I regret that I alone can offer you the gratitude that my entire clan owes you but, as you said, we can not speak of the truth just yet. The Mantis know only that you assisted in protecting the prophet from one last attack by the bandits from the forest, who managed to escape after a short skirmish.”
Taiko smiled. “My reports say much the same.”
“However,” Saburo continued, “your continued presence in the Kitsune provinces will not be necessary. The prophet will no longer be available to any save the Mantis, and those whom the Empress requires. To allow outsiders is too great a risk?”
“A risk?” Hideo was exasperated. “Us? A risk to the prophet?”
“Exceptions cannot be permitted,” Saburo said. “I hope you understand. There has been too much strain on her blessed talents. The First Prophecy incapacitated her for almost a week. Who knows how long this Second Prophecy will lay her low? If there is to be a Third or subsequent prophecies, then they will be heard and recorded by the Mantis alone. So valuable a treasure will not be lost to the benefit of others.”
“You speak as if we exploited her for our own benefit,” Taiko said bitterly. “As if we were little more than ambitious opportunists.”
“I do not mean to imply such,” Saburo said. “But the prophet, her gifts, and her security are a matter for the Mantis Clan now. If you find offense in this I can but apologize, but it changes nothing.” He stopped and bowed. “The Mantis will ever consider you allies for your efforts, and once the truth is known, you will be lauded as heroes. You are welcome in our lands always, save for Prophet Village, where none are welcome.” He rose and smiled. “I bid you good day, my friends.”
*
-
Soshi Yabu
- Diplomate
- Messages : 2452
- Inscription : 19 juin 2004, 13:26
Jisoo,
How have I managed to live without seeing your face for five long months? The days seem to drag on for eternity, cruelly reminding me that I need to wait even more before I can be rewarded with your brilliant presence. I miss your long, flowing hair, your sharp, caustic wit and your divine beauty. Oh, let this scroll carry my spirit along with these poorly written words so that you can sense the sincerity in my devotion.
I have kept up with your unit’s exploits and I am glad to hear that you are safe. I wish I could have been there at Shiro Moto so I could have done my bit. Alas my duties took me across the empire, sitting in courts instead of standing in combat with you. I know you must have been a goddess of war, fending off the barbaric Lion hordes with your powerful sword and your mighty steed. The poets will sing for eternity, praising your heroism and my pure, powerful love for you.
You have been busy defending our Clan, as I have. I travel from court to court, wrangling support for our new Khan. I have tried to push Moto Jin-Sahn-sama as an example of our noble warriors, but most others seem wary of our religious practices to accept us as the army of the Empire. It has been a rough uphill battle, Jisoo-chan. Chagatai-sama’s failed attack on Toshi Ranbo wrecked our position with many of our former allies and I have been struggling to connect with them once more. It helps that I can use you as an example of shining honor. The Utaku shiotome are beyond reproach.
While traveling through near the Imperial capitol, I heard of an interesting historical tidbit that might intrigue the leaders of our Clan. Several decades ago, a monk named Tsubo wrote a series of philosophical letters that was recently uncovered during the evacuation of Otosan Uchi. Tsubo likened the quest for enlightenment to the calm before the arrow’s flight, the flight of no-mind. While he never pursued this more than as an intellectual point, upon his death his fellows at the monastery started ritualistic archery to help clear their minds. It turns out Tsubo was Shinjo Hanari before his retirement. I did my part to make these letters widespread, and quite a few monks seem enamored by the thought. A new sect is beginning to form based around his thoughts. I will reveal his identity once the sec is complete, gaining great reknown for the Unicorn.
I do my part for our Clan, Jisoo-chan, as do you. I know you will be proud of me when next we see each other. If you have the time from your duties and your busy schedule, Jisoo-chan, could you reply to this message? You have not responded to the last seven, and I worry this shabby courier is perhaps mixing up the recipients.
Ide Eien
*************************
My Esteemed Uncle,
The matter I am writing to you about is a sensitive one; my lady does not wish it to be spoken of openly (for reasons you will soon perceive), and yet it troubles me so greatly that I feel the need to seek the counsel of one wiser than myself.
Last week I was accompanying my charge as she strolled about the markets. I was both unhappy and flattered by this--unhappy, because such a place could hide any number of waiting assassins, and flattered because my lady made it clear that she believed me capable of handling them should they appear. As it happened, I think I would have preferred assassins.
She had stopped for a cup of tea at a small establishment with a small but well-done rock garden. The weather was fine, and so she sat outside where she could admire it properly. The tea house’s other patrons kept well away from her, perceiving that she was a woman of some importance and thus not to be bothered by common folk. After a few minutes a man dressed in the drab colors of a ronin approached. I was ready to go for my sword, but before he came too close he knelt, placed a package on the ground next to him, and bowed low to the ground, begging my lady for permission to speak to her.
I kept my eyes fixed on him because I knew that she would allow it; she has in full measure the kindness of heart for which her family is celebrated. Having her permission, the man rose up slightly and began to speak. He was, he said, in the service of a lord who had come into a great and holy treasure. The lord had kept it in the honor it deserved, but the end of his life as a samurai was approaching, and he was setting his affairs in order before moving on. Sadly, the man said, his lord had no one in his family who he could entrust this treasure to. Admitting this in public would bring dishonor, so the lord had resolved to pass it quietly onto some other worthy soul. Knowing of my lady’s honor and her valiant service to the clan he had decided that she would be a proper guardian for it.
You may find it odd, Uncle, but this did not strike me as so strange. I have known, as I am sure you have, great and honorable men whose qualities did not find reflection in their children. And it is only right that a man in such a position seek to minimize the embarrassment that this causes his line. My lady seemed to agree, for after the usual refusals she accepted the package. The man thanked her profusely, promising that his lord would remember her in prayers offered in his family’s shrine.
My lady returned to her lodgings and opened the package: Within the box, nestled in dark green silk, was a pair of finely made jitte. I could not have said why, but looking at them gave me a feeling of crawling horror. For her part my lady looked at them curiously, then she lifted up her hands and prayed to the kami, seeking their aid in learning what they were. She listened for a moment, then she gasped and threw herself back from the box. "The Celestial Jitte!" she said. We both stared at them, waiting, I suppose, for them to change into something monstrous. When that did not happen, I forced myself to replace the box's lid and retie the cords that had held it closed.
"How did this happen?" my lady asked. "Who would send these to me?" She was white-faced and shaking, and I did not think the less of her for her loss of face. The Jitte had been stolen from the Empire by an onisu, a demon who had murdered Asahina Kimita--her distress was only proper. When she had recovered somewhat, my lady sent for the city's Emerald Magistrate and turned the matter over to him.
I am sure that the Magistrate is an honorable and diligent man, but I do not think he will find the man who gave my lady the package, or the lord he claimed to have served. And so it is I must wonder who is behind this, and why. Was this the work of some personal enemy of my lady's? Or did they seek to harm the Crane Clan by harming one of the clan's blossoming courtiers? You are wise and experienced, my Uncle. How should I respond to this threat? What more can I do to protect her?
Kakita Hideshi
***********************************
To my Kitsuki brethren,
It is with a clear and humble heart that I assume the role of family daimyo. I would have wished a day like this to be some time in the coming, since we had been very ably led by the noble samurai who preceded me. None among the Kitsuki wished her leadership to leave us, but we could not have guessed the reason she did so.
The strength and wisdom of the Kitsuki now leads all of Rokugan. The wisdom of the kami in their selection reminds us of their infallibility. The Divine One is sure to lead the empire as well as she led the Kitsuki. Now it falls to me to continue her proud legacy.
We must remain ever vigilant as we fulfil our duties. The lessons of Sunset Tower are still with us and we will not fail to protect the empire from the true threat from beyond our borders. As we look to the threats outwards, we must not forget to look inwards as well. We protect the lands of the Dragon as we protect Rokugan, but do we know what we are guarding? There are many mysteries in our mountains. These are mysteries that were left to Satsu to keep, but with him leaving the mountains, it is important for the Dragon to solve the riddle within.
It is up to the Kitsuki. We will delve deeply into the secrets of our homeland in order to ensure that those secrets are not lost forever.
At this time of great change we also lose our great father and brother. The direct line of Togashi serves the Empress, and this is a great calling, but it means a time of renewal for the Dragon. While we have the greatest faith in Satsu’s chosen successor, Mirumoto Kei, we also know that she will need our aid as she takes up her new mantle.
We of the Dragon clan have long understood that we were led by one who knew the unknowable and understood that which could not be understood by lesser men. We have followed one who could see paths hidden and the riddles found in all of life. We of the Kitsuki have been inspired from the time of the great Togashi himself, to seek and learn the truth behind each corner.
Now, we are led by a samurai with great capability and nobility, but without the divine knowledge granted through Togashi’s blood. It will be up to the Kitsuki to ensure that Kei-sama does not suffer from our weakness. If she cannot see the unseen, we will find the truth and give it to her. If riddles are not laid bare, we will discover the solution so she can glimpse their meaning.
We are in times of great change, but change is not to be feared. It is inevitable and we will embrace and grow with it.
Our duty is clear.
Kitsuki Berii
************************************
Nobumoto-sama,
It was with horror that I recently learned of the injuries you suffered during the wave of assassinations that occurred in the Empire recently, and with joy that I learned that you will recover fully. The notion of a Phoenix saving the life of the Lord of the Wasp is so alien to me that I can scarcely grasp it! And yet the sons and daughters of Isawa will have my eternal gratitude for this great service they have provided for us. Never again will I treat them with anything but the utmost respect, for they have earned that of me.
But this is not the reason for my letter.
It is with great pride and sadness, my lord, that I must inform you that the quest of Tsuruchi Okame has at last come to an end. For years, Okame-san has scoured the Empire and its peripheries in search of our former lord’s Lost son, who fell during the Reign of Blood. It seems almost a lifetime ago, and in some ways perhaps it was. Regardless, Okame’s quest recently brought him to the Twilight Mountains once again, and this time his prey’s trail was not yet cold. Although he asked not for help, the fact that Hiro seemed to be traveling with a group of like-minded individuals prompted the order to which I now belong to offer him our assistance. It is well that we did, for upon catching up to Hiro, we discovered him to be in the company of a band of ronin that doubtless had no knowledge of his condition.
Despite the nature of Okame’s hunt, the ronin refused to acknowledge any oddities in Hiro’s nature, and were quite belligerent regarding the matter. We had no choice but to engage them or risk Hiro’s escape, which Okame was unwilling to do. My colleagues and I dispatched the wave men, although they were not without skill, and Okame dealt with Hiro personally, as per his charge.
Rarely have I seen so fierce a combat as that which occurred between my kinsmen that bleak day. They both fought without reservation, although Okame beseeched his former friend to put aside his wicked ways and return to the family’s holdings for judgment. I knew that could never be allowed, but I said nothing at the time, as I felt it would not be an issue. Both men were wounded again and again, casting aside their bows for blades and fighting for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Okame fell, and Hiro stood above him, ready for the killing blow. I raised an arrow to take the beast’s life, but Okame spoke of Hiro’s father then, and the Lost warrior hesitated. Okame spoke of Ichiro-sama’s grief and pain, and his longing to see his son again, no matter the circumstances. Unbelievably, Hiro’s hesitation held out. Then, unexpectedly, he reversed his blade and plunged it into his own stomach, running himself through. He was dead in an instant, and I looked away as grief overcame Okame. His wounds were tended, but even my colleagues could not say if they will result in any spiritual afflictions. Okame departed two days later, saying that he had to beg the forgiveness of the man once known as Tsuruchi Ichiro. I do not know when we shall see him again.
Tsuruchi Sho
Legion of the Jade Hand
How have I managed to live without seeing your face for five long months? The days seem to drag on for eternity, cruelly reminding me that I need to wait even more before I can be rewarded with your brilliant presence. I miss your long, flowing hair, your sharp, caustic wit and your divine beauty. Oh, let this scroll carry my spirit along with these poorly written words so that you can sense the sincerity in my devotion.
I have kept up with your unit’s exploits and I am glad to hear that you are safe. I wish I could have been there at Shiro Moto so I could have done my bit. Alas my duties took me across the empire, sitting in courts instead of standing in combat with you. I know you must have been a goddess of war, fending off the barbaric Lion hordes with your powerful sword and your mighty steed. The poets will sing for eternity, praising your heroism and my pure, powerful love for you.
You have been busy defending our Clan, as I have. I travel from court to court, wrangling support for our new Khan. I have tried to push Moto Jin-Sahn-sama as an example of our noble warriors, but most others seem wary of our religious practices to accept us as the army of the Empire. It has been a rough uphill battle, Jisoo-chan. Chagatai-sama’s failed attack on Toshi Ranbo wrecked our position with many of our former allies and I have been struggling to connect with them once more. It helps that I can use you as an example of shining honor. The Utaku shiotome are beyond reproach.
While traveling through near the Imperial capitol, I heard of an interesting historical tidbit that might intrigue the leaders of our Clan. Several decades ago, a monk named Tsubo wrote a series of philosophical letters that was recently uncovered during the evacuation of Otosan Uchi. Tsubo likened the quest for enlightenment to the calm before the arrow’s flight, the flight of no-mind. While he never pursued this more than as an intellectual point, upon his death his fellows at the monastery started ritualistic archery to help clear their minds. It turns out Tsubo was Shinjo Hanari before his retirement. I did my part to make these letters widespread, and quite a few monks seem enamored by the thought. A new sect is beginning to form based around his thoughts. I will reveal his identity once the sec is complete, gaining great reknown for the Unicorn.
I do my part for our Clan, Jisoo-chan, as do you. I know you will be proud of me when next we see each other. If you have the time from your duties and your busy schedule, Jisoo-chan, could you reply to this message? You have not responded to the last seven, and I worry this shabby courier is perhaps mixing up the recipients.
Ide Eien
*************************
My Esteemed Uncle,
The matter I am writing to you about is a sensitive one; my lady does not wish it to be spoken of openly (for reasons you will soon perceive), and yet it troubles me so greatly that I feel the need to seek the counsel of one wiser than myself.
Last week I was accompanying my charge as she strolled about the markets. I was both unhappy and flattered by this--unhappy, because such a place could hide any number of waiting assassins, and flattered because my lady made it clear that she believed me capable of handling them should they appear. As it happened, I think I would have preferred assassins.
She had stopped for a cup of tea at a small establishment with a small but well-done rock garden. The weather was fine, and so she sat outside where she could admire it properly. The tea house’s other patrons kept well away from her, perceiving that she was a woman of some importance and thus not to be bothered by common folk. After a few minutes a man dressed in the drab colors of a ronin approached. I was ready to go for my sword, but before he came too close he knelt, placed a package on the ground next to him, and bowed low to the ground, begging my lady for permission to speak to her.
I kept my eyes fixed on him because I knew that she would allow it; she has in full measure the kindness of heart for which her family is celebrated. Having her permission, the man rose up slightly and began to speak. He was, he said, in the service of a lord who had come into a great and holy treasure. The lord had kept it in the honor it deserved, but the end of his life as a samurai was approaching, and he was setting his affairs in order before moving on. Sadly, the man said, his lord had no one in his family who he could entrust this treasure to. Admitting this in public would bring dishonor, so the lord had resolved to pass it quietly onto some other worthy soul. Knowing of my lady’s honor and her valiant service to the clan he had decided that she would be a proper guardian for it.
You may find it odd, Uncle, but this did not strike me as so strange. I have known, as I am sure you have, great and honorable men whose qualities did not find reflection in their children. And it is only right that a man in such a position seek to minimize the embarrassment that this causes his line. My lady seemed to agree, for after the usual refusals she accepted the package. The man thanked her profusely, promising that his lord would remember her in prayers offered in his family’s shrine.
My lady returned to her lodgings and opened the package: Within the box, nestled in dark green silk, was a pair of finely made jitte. I could not have said why, but looking at them gave me a feeling of crawling horror. For her part my lady looked at them curiously, then she lifted up her hands and prayed to the kami, seeking their aid in learning what they were. She listened for a moment, then she gasped and threw herself back from the box. "The Celestial Jitte!" she said. We both stared at them, waiting, I suppose, for them to change into something monstrous. When that did not happen, I forced myself to replace the box's lid and retie the cords that had held it closed.
"How did this happen?" my lady asked. "Who would send these to me?" She was white-faced and shaking, and I did not think the less of her for her loss of face. The Jitte had been stolen from the Empire by an onisu, a demon who had murdered Asahina Kimita--her distress was only proper. When she had recovered somewhat, my lady sent for the city's Emerald Magistrate and turned the matter over to him.
I am sure that the Magistrate is an honorable and diligent man, but I do not think he will find the man who gave my lady the package, or the lord he claimed to have served. And so it is I must wonder who is behind this, and why. Was this the work of some personal enemy of my lady's? Or did they seek to harm the Crane Clan by harming one of the clan's blossoming courtiers? You are wise and experienced, my Uncle. How should I respond to this threat? What more can I do to protect her?
Kakita Hideshi
***********************************
To my Kitsuki brethren,
It is with a clear and humble heart that I assume the role of family daimyo. I would have wished a day like this to be some time in the coming, since we had been very ably led by the noble samurai who preceded me. None among the Kitsuki wished her leadership to leave us, but we could not have guessed the reason she did so.
The strength and wisdom of the Kitsuki now leads all of Rokugan. The wisdom of the kami in their selection reminds us of their infallibility. The Divine One is sure to lead the empire as well as she led the Kitsuki. Now it falls to me to continue her proud legacy.
We must remain ever vigilant as we fulfil our duties. The lessons of Sunset Tower are still with us and we will not fail to protect the empire from the true threat from beyond our borders. As we look to the threats outwards, we must not forget to look inwards as well. We protect the lands of the Dragon as we protect Rokugan, but do we know what we are guarding? There are many mysteries in our mountains. These are mysteries that were left to Satsu to keep, but with him leaving the mountains, it is important for the Dragon to solve the riddle within.
It is up to the Kitsuki. We will delve deeply into the secrets of our homeland in order to ensure that those secrets are not lost forever.
At this time of great change we also lose our great father and brother. The direct line of Togashi serves the Empress, and this is a great calling, but it means a time of renewal for the Dragon. While we have the greatest faith in Satsu’s chosen successor, Mirumoto Kei, we also know that she will need our aid as she takes up her new mantle.
We of the Dragon clan have long understood that we were led by one who knew the unknowable and understood that which could not be understood by lesser men. We have followed one who could see paths hidden and the riddles found in all of life. We of the Kitsuki have been inspired from the time of the great Togashi himself, to seek and learn the truth behind each corner.
Now, we are led by a samurai with great capability and nobility, but without the divine knowledge granted through Togashi’s blood. It will be up to the Kitsuki to ensure that Kei-sama does not suffer from our weakness. If she cannot see the unseen, we will find the truth and give it to her. If riddles are not laid bare, we will discover the solution so she can glimpse their meaning.
We are in times of great change, but change is not to be feared. It is inevitable and we will embrace and grow with it.
Our duty is clear.
Kitsuki Berii
************************************
Nobumoto-sama,
It was with horror that I recently learned of the injuries you suffered during the wave of assassinations that occurred in the Empire recently, and with joy that I learned that you will recover fully. The notion of a Phoenix saving the life of the Lord of the Wasp is so alien to me that I can scarcely grasp it! And yet the sons and daughters of Isawa will have my eternal gratitude for this great service they have provided for us. Never again will I treat them with anything but the utmost respect, for they have earned that of me.
But this is not the reason for my letter.
It is with great pride and sadness, my lord, that I must inform you that the quest of Tsuruchi Okame has at last come to an end. For years, Okame-san has scoured the Empire and its peripheries in search of our former lord’s Lost son, who fell during the Reign of Blood. It seems almost a lifetime ago, and in some ways perhaps it was. Regardless, Okame’s quest recently brought him to the Twilight Mountains once again, and this time his prey’s trail was not yet cold. Although he asked not for help, the fact that Hiro seemed to be traveling with a group of like-minded individuals prompted the order to which I now belong to offer him our assistance. It is well that we did, for upon catching up to Hiro, we discovered him to be in the company of a band of ronin that doubtless had no knowledge of his condition.
Despite the nature of Okame’s hunt, the ronin refused to acknowledge any oddities in Hiro’s nature, and were quite belligerent regarding the matter. We had no choice but to engage them or risk Hiro’s escape, which Okame was unwilling to do. My colleagues and I dispatched the wave men, although they were not without skill, and Okame dealt with Hiro personally, as per his charge.
Rarely have I seen so fierce a combat as that which occurred between my kinsmen that bleak day. They both fought without reservation, although Okame beseeched his former friend to put aside his wicked ways and return to the family’s holdings for judgment. I knew that could never be allowed, but I said nothing at the time, as I felt it would not be an issue. Both men were wounded again and again, casting aside their bows for blades and fighting for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Okame fell, and Hiro stood above him, ready for the killing blow. I raised an arrow to take the beast’s life, but Okame spoke of Hiro’s father then, and the Lost warrior hesitated. Okame spoke of Ichiro-sama’s grief and pain, and his longing to see his son again, no matter the circumstances. Unbelievably, Hiro’s hesitation held out. Then, unexpectedly, he reversed his blade and plunged it into his own stomach, running himself through. He was dead in an instant, and I looked away as grief overcame Okame. His wounds were tended, but even my colleagues could not say if they will result in any spiritual afflictions. Okame departed two days later, saying that he had to beg the forgiveness of the man once known as Tsuruchi Ichiro. I do not know when we shall see him again.
Tsuruchi Sho
Legion of the Jade Hand
-
Soshi Yabu
- Diplomate
- Messages : 2452
- Inscription : 19 juin 2004, 13:26
Defenders
By Nancy Sauer
Editing by Fred Wan
One day before the Celestial Tournament
The ruins of Otosan Uchi spread out for miles, its abandoned neighborhoods marking a rhythm of destruction. Shattered, burned, shattered, burned, burned, shattered--and very, very rarely, a few intact buildings for effect. Matsu Yoshike wondered about the intact ones: Had they been the property of highly virtuous people, or extremely wicked ones? He had no way of knowing.
He moved closer to one of the survivors, taking care to move quietly. He feared no enemy--Asahina Sekawa and his Yotsu allies had cleansed the ruins years before, and besides, he was a Matsu--but he had been trained among the Miya, and their reverence for the fallen capital had bled into his soul. A warrior's firm stride seemed sacrilegious here. Yoshike put his hand out to touch one of the walls of the house, wondering what story it could tell, and froze as the sound of voices drifted through the air. Ghosts, was his first reaction, and he almost turned and fled. Discipline reasserted itself quickly: He would need more information to report to the Kitsu, so that they might determine what type of ghost there were. Leaning closer he focused himself on listening.
"...will make the apostate regret his defiance of the great ones!"
"But will it be enough?"
"The shokansuru is sure of it. He does not yet have his master's full power, but even the lesser oni we will bring forth will remind them that it is Jigoku, and not Tengoku, which they should be worshiping."
"All glory to the great ones."
"And what of the apostate's people? We have not seen any of them since arriving."
"Pulled away on one of his mad schemes, no doubt. More proof that we hold the true favor of Jigoku. We all know what is to be done now. All glory to the great ones!"
"All glory to the great ones!"
Yoshike was so intent on remembering what he heard that he almost missed the importance of the sounds of rustling cloth and footsteps on floor. Acting quickly he slipped around the corner, away from the door he now heard rattling open. He crouched down and carefully looked back around to see a file of about a dozen people head down the street. They were all thin, haggard and ragged, but there was something about the way they carried themselves that made him reach for his sword. When he was sure they were gone he made his way back to the street and began to run.
* * * * *
Akodo Shigetoshi thanked Yoshike for his report and dismissed him. As he left, the Lion Champion looked around his tent's receiving room, noting the reactions of his advisors. Akodo Setai was disturbingly calm; Yoshike might have just reported the day's weather for all the effect it had on him. Matsu Kenji and Ikoma Otemi had both begun the meeting pretending that there was nothing at all untoward with them being in the same room together. That air had vanished quickly; now Kenji sat just a bit forward, as if already scenting a battle, and Otemi was sitting back with a look of calculation in his eyes. Kitsu Kiyoko looked outraged; Shigetoshi couldn't decide if it was the idea of an assault on the Celestial Tournament or oni-summoning in general that bothered her more. Perhaps it did not matter.
"Once again evil has taken root in Otosan Uchi," Shigetoshi said.
"It was to prevent this that Nimuro had it burned in the first place," Otemi said bitterly.
Setai spoke, just before Kenji opened her mouth. "It was the heart of the Empire for over a thousand years. We should not be surprised that its death has generated ghosts."
"If they were real ghosts, I could deal with them easily," Kiyoko said. "It is only the living that act in defiance of honor and Heaven."
"They must be stopped," Kenji said. "We must move quickly, before they can complete this ritual."
"How?" Otemi asked. "With what force? We came to a tournament, not a battle."
"There cannot be that many of them," Kenji said. "Between we who are competing, our honor guards, and Setai-san, we should have more than enough."
"That would mean abandoning the tournament," Otemi said. "We cannot jeopardize our clan's chance to provide the next Emperor."
Kenji looked at him in disbelief. "You would let this go unchecked?"
"There are the Seppun," Setai said quietly. "Or the Mantis. They brag enough about having taken possession of the outlying villages."
"The Seppun are required here, to aid in administering the tournament," Kenji said. "Those villages are full of heimin and merchants--and we have all seen the Mantis delegation. If the Tournament is to be protected, we must do it."
"I think Kenji is right," Kiyoko said.
"The Heavens have summoned us to participate in this Tournament," Otemi said. "If they feel it is threatened, they can act to protect it."
Shigetoshi stood up, cutting off the discussion, and walked to the doorway of the tent. Opening up one flap he looked out over the tournament grounds. After a moment he released the flap and turned back to his advisors. "The Heavens have brought the matter to the attention of the Lion Clan," he said. "What more action need they take?"
There was silence as the others considered his words. "Your will, my Champion," Setai said. "But you must know that there are some at this tournament who will try to use this against us, and claim that our absence is a slight against the authority of the Voices."
"There will be no slight," Shigetoshi said. "Kenji will remain to represent the Lion in the competition." Kenji looked startled, then approving.
"Shigetoshi-sama," Kiyoko said, "we know that our enemies will be doing something in the city, but we do not know what, or what else. What if we go there, to discover that the true danger is here?
"An excellent observation," he said. He smiled slightly at the young woman. "But Kenji will be here."
"The presence of the Matsu daimyo solves both problems," Otemi agreed.
"There are many other problems yet to be solved," Shigetoshi said. "We shall move out in the night. All save Otemi will go now and brief your people on what must be done. Otemi-san, you are familiar with Otosan Uchi, you will stay here and help me begin developing plans. The rest of you return in two hours."
* * * * *
The day of the Tournament
Kenji idly looked around the tournament, feeling bored and slightly irritable. Shigetoshi's decision to leave her here was the correct one on all counts, but that didn't change the fact that today the rest of her kin were going into desperate battle against the enemies of the Empire while she had yet to face a significant challenge.
Her mood lightened as she watched a Bayushi walk stiffly toward the dais were the Voices sat and bowed before them. The Scorpion were not doing well today, she thought--their vaunted 'efficiency' seemed to desert them under the unblinking gaze of Heaven's messengers. Kenji thought that they should take this as a lesson on the power of bushido, but she doubted that would happen--some people never learned.
The Scorpion's opponent came up to the dais, and Kenji scowled at him. It was a Moto, Moto, she searched for the name, Jin-Sahn. Moto Chen had earned a small grudging respect from her by bringing himself before the Voices of the Sun and Moon for judgment, but Kenji remained perplexed as to why the Voices hadn't simply incinerated him and every other Moto on sight. It seemed a simple enough matter to her.
The two men bowed to each other and squared off. Kenji watched, her scowl changing to a thoughtful frown. The Scorpion's stance was stiff and most of his attention was on the two Voices. The Unicorn, on the other hand, was relaxed and focused on his opponent. Kenji tapped a finger against her sword's sheath. The Voices had observed several of her matches, and she had gotten through them by reminding herself that she had nothing to hide. Jin-Sahn seemed to have a different attitude; it was as if being observed by the gods themselves was an everyday occurrence for him. Jin-Sahn sprang on his opponent with a shout and after a flurry of blows the Scorpion went sprawling. Kenji began to smile. Whatever else was going to happen today, at least she had one good fight to look forward to.
* * * * *
It was a scene that belonged in darkness, Shigetoshi thought, hidden away from the heavens' first rays of sunlight that now crept over the horizon. It would be blasphemous under any conditions, but to see it lit fully by sunlight, as it would be in only a few moments, would simply emphasize its wrongness.
Four tall wooden pillars had been set up in the plaza, establishing a square oriented on the cardinal directions. A series of smaller pillars were arranged on the sides of the square. A body had been tied upside down to each pillar and its intestines had been pulled out and tied to the intestines of the body on the next pillar in a mockery of the paper ropes that protected a shrine. In the center of the square was a tori gate, and though he could not be certain at this distance its color made Shigetoshi think it had been completely painted over in blood. There were a dozen tsukai arranged in ring around the torii gate, and Shigetoshi could faintly hear the sound of their chanting. Whenever the chant rose to a certain pitch one of them would slash himself with a knife, the space framed by the torii gate would film over to blackness, and an oni would appear within it.
Outside the square there were already around thirty oni. They were corpse-white and somewhat man-shaped, but larger and spindlier with two sets of legs were there should be one. The head was set directly on the shoulders with a lizard's wide mouth and a long red tongue. Rolling among the oni were large, flaming cartwheels, but he could not determine what their purpose was.
Shigetoshi abruptly shook himself out of his fascination and looked to his right. There the honor guards for himself, Otemi, and Kiyoko were arranged, their faces all showing the mix of horror and determination he was feeling. He turned to his left and looked at Otemi and Kiyoko. Otemi was armed and armored like the rest, but he would be remaining here to act as Kiyoko's yojimbo. Kiyoko looked red-eyed and exhausted; she had spent the entire night invoking ancestors and kami to put blessings on the Lion soldiers. Despite that she stood straight and firm, and when he looked without looking, out of the corner of his eye, Shigetoshi thought he could see a crowd of ghostly figures surrounding her.
"It is time," Shigetoshi said.
"The blessings of many go with you," Kiyoko said.
"There will be no trouble here," was Otemi's comment.
Shigetoshi nodded, then turned to the others. "For the Lion!" he yelled. "For the Empire! FOR THE EMPEROR!"
"FOR THE EMPEROR!" came the answering roar, and Shigetoshi began to run down the street that led to the plaza with his force following. The noise they made did not go unnoticed, and there was a pause in the chant as the tsukai realized they were about to come under attack. In the last moments they were in his view Shigetoshi saw one of them make pointing motions in the Lions' direction, eyes wide with fear, and then he and his force were rushing into the plaza.
The battle quickly became a swirling mass of smaller fights. The size and strength of the white oni made one of them a match for most Lion samurai but they could not coordinate their attacks, and two Lions working together could dispatch one with ease. Shigetoshi squared off against one the demons alone, noting carefully how its legs moved. When it rushed in he moved to the side and hamstrung one of its legs. As it struggled to regain its balance Shigetoshi swung into its zone and sliced open its torso.
As he danced back to avoid being sprayed by ichor Shigetoshi found himself near one of the wooden pillars. He glanced over at the body on it and felt his heart stop for a moment as he realized that it was still alive. The victim hung with his back slightly arched against the pillar, mouth frozen open in a scream that would never begin and could never end. Blood and bile dripped down from the shredded abdomen, circling around the maddened, staring eyes and replacing the absent tears. Shigetoshi struck off the man's head, praying to Jizo, the Fortune of Mercy, that this would be enough to let him die. Then he turned back to the battle.
* * * * *
"Ancestors!" Kiyoko whispered. "They are alive!"
"Who?" Otemi said.
"The pillars!" Kiyoko pointed to the the body that now dangled limp and headless. "The ones on pillars are still alive!"
"Fortunes have mercy on them," Otemi said, his voice quiet like a prayer.
"We must help them to die," Kiyoko said.
"There is nothing we can do--they are surrounded by the fighting, and we cannot get close without putting you in danger."
"You have a bow."
"Our Champion has ordered me to protect you, and nothing else."
Kiyoko blinked away her frustration and took a deep breath. The thought of souls being left to dangle in the margin between life and death tore at her, but there was little she could do about it. Shigetoshi's order was perfectly sound, and honor could not allow Otemi to do anything to break it. But--
"Otemi-san," she said, "for the tsukai to take the time to arrange their victims so must mean that the arrangement is important to the ritual they are conducting, yes?"
"I know nothing of maho, but it is a reasonable conclusion."
"I would be much safer if their ritual was disrupted, would I not?"
Otemi looked at her for a moment, then he pulled out his bow and begun stringing it. "It is as you say, Kiyoko-san."
* * * * *
Shigetoshi didn't know where the laughter came from, but he trusted his instincts and leaped to the right. He had the impression of a flaming object rushing by, and then there was a scream. Shigetoshi followed the sound and saw an Akodo samurai being run over by one of the flaming cart wheels. The wheel rolled back and forth over the man, grinding the body into paste. When it was done it wheeled around and Shigetoshi saw that there was a head where the spokes would join to the axle. The head locked eyes with him for a moment, then gave a mad cackle and pivoted around to rush towards him. Shigetoshi spun about, katana held low, and then cut upwards with all of his momentum when the wheel-demon came within range. The wheel shattered into pieces of flaming wood as the wailing head bounced helplessly along the ground. Shigetoshi took two quick steps and stomped on it.
Suddenly there were shrieks from the direction of the tsukai, followed by a chorus of Matsu war cries. The soldiers around Shigetoshi raised an Akodo war cry and redoubled their efforts against the oni. Shigetoshi smiled. The terrain had made it impossible to approach the tsukai without giving them time to react, so instead of taking advantage of the terrain he had chosen to use his opponent's minds against them. His force had taken the tsukai's attention, pulling all of their forces over toward them--and now Akodo Setai and Matsu Kenji's honor guard were attacking on their unprotected flank. It would not take long now, he thought, and plunged back into the fight.
* * * * *
The roadside shrine was tiny and dedicated to Koshin, the Fortune of Roads, but it had a well and a sanctified tori gate and that was all Kitsu Kiyoko needed.
Shigetoshi stood patiently while a soldier helped remove his armor, then he walked to the well where two more stood with buckets ready. They poured water over him to remove any trace of blood or ichor. When he felt clean again he walked to the entryway of the shrine and purified himself at the fountain that bubbled up there, washing his hands and mouth in its holy water. Kiyoko was standing in front of the tori gate, offering the prayers for purification for a group of Matsu. When she was done they rose and one by one walked through the gate.
Shigetoshi walked past the line of those waiting and knelt down before her. "Arrows?" he said softly. Kiyoko's mouth compressed into a stubborn line, then she raised her hands and began reciting the purification prayer. Shigetoshi decided not to pursue the matter. When she finished he stood up and walked though the gate, feeling the weight of impurity drop off of him.
Right now, he knew, the tournament at Seppun Hill was underway. It was possible, if they moved at top speed, that he and his men could return in time to at least witness its conclusion, perhaps even competed. That would be for the best, as the Unicorn Khan had wished to speak with him, and he did not intend to offer insult by failing to speak with him prior to their departure. Regardless, Shigetoshi did not know who would rule the Empire tomorrow, but he did know that the Emperor's ascension would go smoothly.
The Lion had already proven their devotion to the Throne. He hoped the other clans would do the same.
By Nancy Sauer
Editing by Fred Wan
One day before the Celestial Tournament
The ruins of Otosan Uchi spread out for miles, its abandoned neighborhoods marking a rhythm of destruction. Shattered, burned, shattered, burned, burned, shattered--and very, very rarely, a few intact buildings for effect. Matsu Yoshike wondered about the intact ones: Had they been the property of highly virtuous people, or extremely wicked ones? He had no way of knowing.
He moved closer to one of the survivors, taking care to move quietly. He feared no enemy--Asahina Sekawa and his Yotsu allies had cleansed the ruins years before, and besides, he was a Matsu--but he had been trained among the Miya, and their reverence for the fallen capital had bled into his soul. A warrior's firm stride seemed sacrilegious here. Yoshike put his hand out to touch one of the walls of the house, wondering what story it could tell, and froze as the sound of voices drifted through the air. Ghosts, was his first reaction, and he almost turned and fled. Discipline reasserted itself quickly: He would need more information to report to the Kitsu, so that they might determine what type of ghost there were. Leaning closer he focused himself on listening.
"...will make the apostate regret his defiance of the great ones!"
"But will it be enough?"
"The shokansuru is sure of it. He does not yet have his master's full power, but even the lesser oni we will bring forth will remind them that it is Jigoku, and not Tengoku, which they should be worshiping."
"All glory to the great ones."
"And what of the apostate's people? We have not seen any of them since arriving."
"Pulled away on one of his mad schemes, no doubt. More proof that we hold the true favor of Jigoku. We all know what is to be done now. All glory to the great ones!"
"All glory to the great ones!"
Yoshike was so intent on remembering what he heard that he almost missed the importance of the sounds of rustling cloth and footsteps on floor. Acting quickly he slipped around the corner, away from the door he now heard rattling open. He crouched down and carefully looked back around to see a file of about a dozen people head down the street. They were all thin, haggard and ragged, but there was something about the way they carried themselves that made him reach for his sword. When he was sure they were gone he made his way back to the street and began to run.
* * * * *
Akodo Shigetoshi thanked Yoshike for his report and dismissed him. As he left, the Lion Champion looked around his tent's receiving room, noting the reactions of his advisors. Akodo Setai was disturbingly calm; Yoshike might have just reported the day's weather for all the effect it had on him. Matsu Kenji and Ikoma Otemi had both begun the meeting pretending that there was nothing at all untoward with them being in the same room together. That air had vanished quickly; now Kenji sat just a bit forward, as if already scenting a battle, and Otemi was sitting back with a look of calculation in his eyes. Kitsu Kiyoko looked outraged; Shigetoshi couldn't decide if it was the idea of an assault on the Celestial Tournament or oni-summoning in general that bothered her more. Perhaps it did not matter.
"Once again evil has taken root in Otosan Uchi," Shigetoshi said.
"It was to prevent this that Nimuro had it burned in the first place," Otemi said bitterly.
Setai spoke, just before Kenji opened her mouth. "It was the heart of the Empire for over a thousand years. We should not be surprised that its death has generated ghosts."
"If they were real ghosts, I could deal with them easily," Kiyoko said. "It is only the living that act in defiance of honor and Heaven."
"They must be stopped," Kenji said. "We must move quickly, before they can complete this ritual."
"How?" Otemi asked. "With what force? We came to a tournament, not a battle."
"There cannot be that many of them," Kenji said. "Between we who are competing, our honor guards, and Setai-san, we should have more than enough."
"That would mean abandoning the tournament," Otemi said. "We cannot jeopardize our clan's chance to provide the next Emperor."
Kenji looked at him in disbelief. "You would let this go unchecked?"
"There are the Seppun," Setai said quietly. "Or the Mantis. They brag enough about having taken possession of the outlying villages."
"The Seppun are required here, to aid in administering the tournament," Kenji said. "Those villages are full of heimin and merchants--and we have all seen the Mantis delegation. If the Tournament is to be protected, we must do it."
"I think Kenji is right," Kiyoko said.
"The Heavens have summoned us to participate in this Tournament," Otemi said. "If they feel it is threatened, they can act to protect it."
Shigetoshi stood up, cutting off the discussion, and walked to the doorway of the tent. Opening up one flap he looked out over the tournament grounds. After a moment he released the flap and turned back to his advisors. "The Heavens have brought the matter to the attention of the Lion Clan," he said. "What more action need they take?"
There was silence as the others considered his words. "Your will, my Champion," Setai said. "But you must know that there are some at this tournament who will try to use this against us, and claim that our absence is a slight against the authority of the Voices."
"There will be no slight," Shigetoshi said. "Kenji will remain to represent the Lion in the competition." Kenji looked startled, then approving.
"Shigetoshi-sama," Kiyoko said, "we know that our enemies will be doing something in the city, but we do not know what, or what else. What if we go there, to discover that the true danger is here?
"An excellent observation," he said. He smiled slightly at the young woman. "But Kenji will be here."
"The presence of the Matsu daimyo solves both problems," Otemi agreed.
"There are many other problems yet to be solved," Shigetoshi said. "We shall move out in the night. All save Otemi will go now and brief your people on what must be done. Otemi-san, you are familiar with Otosan Uchi, you will stay here and help me begin developing plans. The rest of you return in two hours."
* * * * *
The day of the Tournament
Kenji idly looked around the tournament, feeling bored and slightly irritable. Shigetoshi's decision to leave her here was the correct one on all counts, but that didn't change the fact that today the rest of her kin were going into desperate battle against the enemies of the Empire while she had yet to face a significant challenge.
Her mood lightened as she watched a Bayushi walk stiffly toward the dais were the Voices sat and bowed before them. The Scorpion were not doing well today, she thought--their vaunted 'efficiency' seemed to desert them under the unblinking gaze of Heaven's messengers. Kenji thought that they should take this as a lesson on the power of bushido, but she doubted that would happen--some people never learned.
The Scorpion's opponent came up to the dais, and Kenji scowled at him. It was a Moto, Moto, she searched for the name, Jin-Sahn. Moto Chen had earned a small grudging respect from her by bringing himself before the Voices of the Sun and Moon for judgment, but Kenji remained perplexed as to why the Voices hadn't simply incinerated him and every other Moto on sight. It seemed a simple enough matter to her.
The two men bowed to each other and squared off. Kenji watched, her scowl changing to a thoughtful frown. The Scorpion's stance was stiff and most of his attention was on the two Voices. The Unicorn, on the other hand, was relaxed and focused on his opponent. Kenji tapped a finger against her sword's sheath. The Voices had observed several of her matches, and she had gotten through them by reminding herself that she had nothing to hide. Jin-Sahn seemed to have a different attitude; it was as if being observed by the gods themselves was an everyday occurrence for him. Jin-Sahn sprang on his opponent with a shout and after a flurry of blows the Scorpion went sprawling. Kenji began to smile. Whatever else was going to happen today, at least she had one good fight to look forward to.
* * * * *
It was a scene that belonged in darkness, Shigetoshi thought, hidden away from the heavens' first rays of sunlight that now crept over the horizon. It would be blasphemous under any conditions, but to see it lit fully by sunlight, as it would be in only a few moments, would simply emphasize its wrongness.
Four tall wooden pillars had been set up in the plaza, establishing a square oriented on the cardinal directions. A series of smaller pillars were arranged on the sides of the square. A body had been tied upside down to each pillar and its intestines had been pulled out and tied to the intestines of the body on the next pillar in a mockery of the paper ropes that protected a shrine. In the center of the square was a tori gate, and though he could not be certain at this distance its color made Shigetoshi think it had been completely painted over in blood. There were a dozen tsukai arranged in ring around the torii gate, and Shigetoshi could faintly hear the sound of their chanting. Whenever the chant rose to a certain pitch one of them would slash himself with a knife, the space framed by the torii gate would film over to blackness, and an oni would appear within it.
Outside the square there were already around thirty oni. They were corpse-white and somewhat man-shaped, but larger and spindlier with two sets of legs were there should be one. The head was set directly on the shoulders with a lizard's wide mouth and a long red tongue. Rolling among the oni were large, flaming cartwheels, but he could not determine what their purpose was.
Shigetoshi abruptly shook himself out of his fascination and looked to his right. There the honor guards for himself, Otemi, and Kiyoko were arranged, their faces all showing the mix of horror and determination he was feeling. He turned to his left and looked at Otemi and Kiyoko. Otemi was armed and armored like the rest, but he would be remaining here to act as Kiyoko's yojimbo. Kiyoko looked red-eyed and exhausted; she had spent the entire night invoking ancestors and kami to put blessings on the Lion soldiers. Despite that she stood straight and firm, and when he looked without looking, out of the corner of his eye, Shigetoshi thought he could see a crowd of ghostly figures surrounding her.
"It is time," Shigetoshi said.
"The blessings of many go with you," Kiyoko said.
"There will be no trouble here," was Otemi's comment.
Shigetoshi nodded, then turned to the others. "For the Lion!" he yelled. "For the Empire! FOR THE EMPEROR!"
"FOR THE EMPEROR!" came the answering roar, and Shigetoshi began to run down the street that led to the plaza with his force following. The noise they made did not go unnoticed, and there was a pause in the chant as the tsukai realized they were about to come under attack. In the last moments they were in his view Shigetoshi saw one of them make pointing motions in the Lions' direction, eyes wide with fear, and then he and his force were rushing into the plaza.
The battle quickly became a swirling mass of smaller fights. The size and strength of the white oni made one of them a match for most Lion samurai but they could not coordinate their attacks, and two Lions working together could dispatch one with ease. Shigetoshi squared off against one the demons alone, noting carefully how its legs moved. When it rushed in he moved to the side and hamstrung one of its legs. As it struggled to regain its balance Shigetoshi swung into its zone and sliced open its torso.
As he danced back to avoid being sprayed by ichor Shigetoshi found himself near one of the wooden pillars. He glanced over at the body on it and felt his heart stop for a moment as he realized that it was still alive. The victim hung with his back slightly arched against the pillar, mouth frozen open in a scream that would never begin and could never end. Blood and bile dripped down from the shredded abdomen, circling around the maddened, staring eyes and replacing the absent tears. Shigetoshi struck off the man's head, praying to Jizo, the Fortune of Mercy, that this would be enough to let him die. Then he turned back to the battle.
* * * * *
"Ancestors!" Kiyoko whispered. "They are alive!"
"Who?" Otemi said.
"The pillars!" Kiyoko pointed to the the body that now dangled limp and headless. "The ones on pillars are still alive!"
"Fortunes have mercy on them," Otemi said, his voice quiet like a prayer.
"We must help them to die," Kiyoko said.
"There is nothing we can do--they are surrounded by the fighting, and we cannot get close without putting you in danger."
"You have a bow."
"Our Champion has ordered me to protect you, and nothing else."
Kiyoko blinked away her frustration and took a deep breath. The thought of souls being left to dangle in the margin between life and death tore at her, but there was little she could do about it. Shigetoshi's order was perfectly sound, and honor could not allow Otemi to do anything to break it. But--
"Otemi-san," she said, "for the tsukai to take the time to arrange their victims so must mean that the arrangement is important to the ritual they are conducting, yes?"
"I know nothing of maho, but it is a reasonable conclusion."
"I would be much safer if their ritual was disrupted, would I not?"
Otemi looked at her for a moment, then he pulled out his bow and begun stringing it. "It is as you say, Kiyoko-san."
* * * * *
Shigetoshi didn't know where the laughter came from, but he trusted his instincts and leaped to the right. He had the impression of a flaming object rushing by, and then there was a scream. Shigetoshi followed the sound and saw an Akodo samurai being run over by one of the flaming cart wheels. The wheel rolled back and forth over the man, grinding the body into paste. When it was done it wheeled around and Shigetoshi saw that there was a head where the spokes would join to the axle. The head locked eyes with him for a moment, then gave a mad cackle and pivoted around to rush towards him. Shigetoshi spun about, katana held low, and then cut upwards with all of his momentum when the wheel-demon came within range. The wheel shattered into pieces of flaming wood as the wailing head bounced helplessly along the ground. Shigetoshi took two quick steps and stomped on it.
Suddenly there were shrieks from the direction of the tsukai, followed by a chorus of Matsu war cries. The soldiers around Shigetoshi raised an Akodo war cry and redoubled their efforts against the oni. Shigetoshi smiled. The terrain had made it impossible to approach the tsukai without giving them time to react, so instead of taking advantage of the terrain he had chosen to use his opponent's minds against them. His force had taken the tsukai's attention, pulling all of their forces over toward them--and now Akodo Setai and Matsu Kenji's honor guard were attacking on their unprotected flank. It would not take long now, he thought, and plunged back into the fight.
* * * * *
The roadside shrine was tiny and dedicated to Koshin, the Fortune of Roads, but it had a well and a sanctified tori gate and that was all Kitsu Kiyoko needed.
Shigetoshi stood patiently while a soldier helped remove his armor, then he walked to the well where two more stood with buckets ready. They poured water over him to remove any trace of blood or ichor. When he felt clean again he walked to the entryway of the shrine and purified himself at the fountain that bubbled up there, washing his hands and mouth in its holy water. Kiyoko was standing in front of the tori gate, offering the prayers for purification for a group of Matsu. When she was done they rose and one by one walked through the gate.
Shigetoshi walked past the line of those waiting and knelt down before her. "Arrows?" he said softly. Kiyoko's mouth compressed into a stubborn line, then she raised her hands and began reciting the purification prayer. Shigetoshi decided not to pursue the matter. When she finished he stood up and walked though the gate, feeling the weight of impurity drop off of him.
Right now, he knew, the tournament at Seppun Hill was underway. It was possible, if they moved at top speed, that he and his men could return in time to at least witness its conclusion, perhaps even competed. That would be for the best, as the Unicorn Khan had wished to speak with him, and he did not intend to offer insult by failing to speak with him prior to their departure. Regardless, Shigetoshi did not know who would rule the Empire tomorrow, but he did know that the Emperor's ascension would go smoothly.
The Lion had already proven their devotion to the Throne. He hoped the other clans would do the same.
-
Soshi Yabu
- Diplomate
- Messages : 2452
- Inscription : 19 juin 2004, 13:26
Glory of the Empire, Part I
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Kyuden Bayushi, Month of the Boar, year 1170
The snowfalls of early winter coated everything in sight with a light dusting of white, hinting at cocoon of snow that would appear in a matter of weeks. Heedless of the cold, a full legion of Scorpion warriors, their black armor polished to the point that their formation resembled the bright, reflective surface of a black sea, stood completely motionless in the gray light of midmorning. Likewise, soldiers lined every available inch of space along the walls and towers of the majestic Scorpion palace, so still they might be statues.
Bayushi Paneki, the Scorpion Clan Champion and the man once known as the Defender of the Empire, stood in the bracing cold without seeming to notice. He looked about at his loyal subjects with satisfaction. It was, he felt, an appropriate display for his arriving guests. Ample, but not ostentatious. It was always difficult to marry displays of strength with politically appropriate gestures, but he thought this was most suitable.
To the north, the outriders for the procession he awaited were visible on the horizon. The arrival of the procession proper took a little more than an hour, as such forces could rarely move with any significant speed. Paneki was a patient man, however, and stood as still as his men while he waited. Finally, the head of the procession reached the gates of the palace. Paneki was pleased to note that the road by which they traveled through the city to the gates was lined with his subjects, all kneeling.
The honor guard at the procession’s head fanned out through the palace’s courtyard, taking up strategic positions and carefully assessing the location of all Scorpion troops. Under any other circumstances, it would be a horrific insult, but the situation was hardly normal. The lead rider dismounted and cast aside his traveling cloak with a flourish, revealing the brilliant green armor beneath it. He approached Paneki and bowed. “My lord.”
Paneki returned the bow. “Kyuden Bayushi is honored by the return of the Empire’s Emerald Champion,” he said with a slight smile. “It is good to see you, Jimen-sama.”
“It pleases me to be home as well,” Shosuro Jimen answered, his tone as warm and cheerful as always. It was perhaps his most spectacular weapon, his constant appearance of joviality, and that was no mean feat. “I have no doubt that all is in readiness?”
“Every specification was exceeded,” Paneki said. “There will be no lapses of security here during Winter Court.”
“Of course,” Jimen agreed. “I have no doubt.” He nodded to one of the mounted soldiers. “Inform the Voice of the Empress that all is ready.”
The soldier nodded and spurred his horse to a gallop. Paneki stood alongside the Emerald Champion, surprisingly anxious for all his outer calm. He only barely noticed that his wife emerged from the nearby entrance to stand next to him as they waited. After only a few moments, a wall of heavily armored Seppun appeared, marching in perfect unison with polearms at the ready. So flawless was their every motion that it was easy to imagine that there were not men encased within the armor, but instead that it was some grandiose enchantment that had bent the will of the armor itself to the Imperial procession. Then the Seppun parted, dividing into two equal halves and forming a corridor on the interior gate.
Immediately behind them was the Imperial Palanquin, accompanied by three men on horseback, each bundled to avoid the cold. The three men rode forth, and two dismounted to approach Paneki. The first bowed very deeply. “My lord,” he said breathlessly. “It is my great honor to stand in your presence once more.”
“Chancellor,” Paneki said, returning the bow. “I offered my congratulations in our correspondence, but now allow me to do so in person. You bring tremendous honor to our family.”
Bayushi Hisoka smiled. “Thank you, my lord.”
As the other man stepped forward, the Imperial Chancellor smiled slightly. “I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting the Imperial Advisor, lord Paneki. May I present Susumu, of the Spider Clan.”
Susumu bowed, but Paneki inclined his head only the barest fraction, risking insult even in such august company. “All who serve the Empress are welcome in Kyuden Bayushi at her discretion,” he said flatly.
Susumu smiled wickedly. “Were I not utterly convinced of your honorable nature, Paneki-sama, I would surely think that I was not welcome within your home.”
Paneki was sorely tempted to offer a retort, but was spared the potential ramifications of insulting one of the Empress’ attendants when Jimen interjected. “One day the Empress will no longer have need of you,” he cheerfully told the Imperial Advisor. “On that day you will not live to see the sun set.”
“We shall see,” was all Susumu said in response.
“Jimen-sama,” called the third rider, a broad-shouldered man whose bald, tattooed head showed no sign of adverse reaction to the cold, “have all preparations been made?”
Jimen stepped forward with a bow and made the formal reply. “All in Kyuden Bayushi is in readiness, Satsu-sama. The Scorpion Champion is prepared to accept the burden of the Empress’ safety at her convenience.”
Togashi Satsu glanced at the palanquin, and although there was no visible reaction, he nodded as if he had been instructed. “Then the Empress is pleased to place her safety into the hands of her trusted vassal. You stand relieved, Champion.”
Paneki glaned at Jimen slightly, and the Emerald Champion nodded. “I have business that requires my attention in the Imperial City,” he said quietly. “I will return before the snows close Shamate Pass.”
“All bow before the radiant majesty of the Divine Empress Iweko I, the Child of the Heavens,” Satsu said, dismounting and dropping to one knee as the curtains of the palanquin parted.
All those around him knelt, and Paneki began to do so, but he hesitated ever so slightly in order to witness the Empress emerge from her conveyance. Even as she stepped forward, she turned and met his eyes instantly, as if she knew that he looked upon her. She smiled slightly, and Paneki felt his breath come short in his chest. He dropped to the ground at once, kneeling in the presence of his Empress. He held that position for a handful of seconds, mindful of the squirming and cooing sounds next to him.
“The Empress bids you rise, Scorpion Champion.”
Paneki did as he was instructed, and struggled for words as he stood before his Empress. “We are honored to receive you, my lady,” he said softly. Very carefully, he withdrew his blade, still within its saya and held it forward. “I offer you my blade, Empress, to command as you see fit. My life is yours.”
Iweko lifted one hand slightly, declining the gift, the soft smile still on her features. Paneki nodded and replaced the blade within his obi. “I am honored to present to you my wife, Bayushi Miyako,” he said, gesturing to the small woman beside him, “and our son, Ichiro.”
“Empress,” Miyako said, inclining her head. The baby cooed and wriggled in her arms.
“The service of the former Toturi Miyako is well remembered in the Imperial City,” Satsu said. “Your presence is a source of comfort for the Empress.”
Iweko smiled at the baby and reached out to stroke the back of the little boy’s hand. He quieted instantly and stared up at the Empress as if entranced.
Miyako gasped slightly. “Empress,” she said, her voice shaky, “You bless our son with your favor.”
“If you please,” the Voice of the Empress said, “the journey has been long and arduous, and the Empress wishes to retire to her quarters before the evening meal.”
“Of course,” Paneki said. “If you will come this way, Divine One, I will show you to your suites personally.”
* * *
Two weeks later
“And thus it was,” the playwright said, reading from his manuscript with great emotion and flourish, “that the Scorpion emerged victorious, and earned the favor of the Dragon Clan for assisting in vanquishing the unseen menace within their ranks!” With that, he bowed before the assembled attendants and then before the Empress, holding his bow for a moment.
Those in attendance clapped politely, but there was a moment’s hesitation, as if they were somewhat cautious. Doji Ayano clapped a few times and then fanned herself lightly. She had found the story amusing, but she understood the trepidation of others; debuting a new story that included villainy among the ranks of the Dragon, and the dependence upon the Scorpion by the Dragon to deal with such a threat, was surely a risky venture considering that the Empress had been among the ranks of the Dragon only a short time ago. She wondered idly if this Bayushi Hiroshi had made a calculated gamble to attract the Empress’ attention, of if he was honestly ignorant of the possible ramifications of his actions. She hoped that the young man would not bring the wrath of his Champion, or worse, that of the Empress herself down upon him.
The Empress sat upon her dais, flanked on her right by the Voice of the Empress and on her left by the Imperial Advisor. Behind her, almost disappearing into the dim lightning at the hindmost section of the chamber, stood the unmoving Voices of the Sun and Moon, ever present if the Empress required their counsel. The Advisor, Susumu, was regarding the young Scorpion with evident amusement, while Satsu looked impassive as ever. From the chamber floor, on the other hand, Hisoka was displaying what Ayano believed might be the only genuine emotion she had ever seen from him: annoyance.
Satsu glanced at the Empress, whom was obscured by screens from the attendants at large, although her silhouette was visible. She turned and apparently spoke to him, though none could hear her. He nodded once. “The Empress finds your tale entertaining,” he answered, “as it reminds her of a matter she investigated once during her youth, alongside a Scorpion magistrate, as it so happens. She looks forward to the play from which your tale is taken being performed here during the Winter Court.”
There was an almost electric stir from the crowd as many delegates exchanged knowing glances with one another. Such an open display of favor was uncommon, and unheard of for someone so unknown as the young playwright. This would definitely indicate a shift of power within the artisans in attendance. Hiroshi, for his part, was exuberant at the praise. “Thank you, Divine One!” he beamed. “I will have the play prepared for you within a fortnight, if that is your wish!”
“That would please the Empress greatly,” Satsu answered.
Ayano could not help but smile at the young man’s obviously genuine enthusiasm, although she felt badly for the artisans in attendance from her own delegation, as they would likely be overlooked by potential patrons in favor of the Scorpion now.
It was going to be an interesting season, she acknowledged inwardly.
* * *
Month of the Rat, year 1170
It was expected for most clans to have some manner of grievance and to seek the judgment of the Empress when the Imperial personage scheduled time for such things to be heard. It was unexpected, Bayushi Kurumi reflected, for the Phoenix to be first among those to step forward, however.
“My lady Empress,” the elder statesman said. “I am Isawa Sawao, master sensei of the Blade of the Sacred Flame dojo and both former and present servant of the throne.”
“Your name is known to the Empress,” Satsu said. “It was you who ended the curse of the Amethyst Crown, a cursed artifact that ruined the lives of countless loyal servants over the centuries. You have the Divine One’s gratitude for lifting a burden from her before it fell upon her shoulders.”
The older shugenja bowed deeply. “That my name is known to the Child of the Heavens is the greatest honor of my life,” he said. “It is with deep regret that I must approach the Empress with a matter of complaint, but I am bound by my oaths as a Phoenix, and by the code of compassion by which all samurai are expected to be held accountable, to speak.”
The priest’s genuine tone and quiet anger at the matter pressing upon his mind was enough to intrigue even the most jaded among the observers. “Please speak,” Satsu said.
“We all know the tale of the great war between the Lion and the Unicorn,” Sawao began, “a war that is now thankfully at an end. The Lion campaign against the Unicorn lands was justified, and demanded by honor. As an advocate of peace and a representative of the Phoenix, I laud the Lion for their restraint during their march. It is a secret to none that with their full might they could have inflicted terrible suffering upon their enemies, even ones as hardy and resilient as the Unicorn.” The priest paused and glanced toward the Lion now after favoring the Unicorn with a respectful nod. “It is with outrage, then, that I must report that Phoenix envoys bound for the Unicorn lands were turned away by the Lion after being refused entrance to the roads leading to the Unicorn provinces.”
“If it pleases the Empress,” a Lion stepped forward. “I wish to address this allegation.”
“Do so,” Satsu said.
“The Phoenix envoys that Sawao-sama describes,” the Lion said, “included well over a hundred men, many of whom were bearing weapons, and who requested passage through the Lion lands.”
“The only roads large enough for our needs pass through the Lion lands,” Sawao answered irritably. “And I was unaware that Lion samurai always left their blades at home when traveling abroad. Clearly this custom has yet to catch on among my Shiba brethren.”
There was a slight murmur of amusement at this, although the Lion representative clearly did not find it entertaining in the slightest. “Should the Lion simply allow hundreds of armed men passage through their lands without question? Would you have other clans adopt the same naivety that has served the Phoenix so well over the centuries?”
“I would call it pragmatism,” Sawao countered. “Or did you imagine that the ruination visited by your clan could be undone by a handful of monks with training in the herbal arts alone?”
“All the Lion know is that the Phoenix have made the business of others their own many times in the past years,” the Lion said smartly. “Should any clan risk your ‘intervention’ in their own lands if it could be avoided? Who can say that the Unicorn would not find your assistance less than welcome?”
Sawao’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The actions taken by the Phoenix were taken in an Empire without guidance or leadership. We sought only to save lives and resources for the day when a rightful ruler could assume such tasks. We only sought to serve the Empire.”
“You only sought to impose your view of what is right and honorable upon others,” the Lion countered. “I find the expulsion of Phoenix forces from the Yasuki lands the only honorable response to actions such as yours.”
Sawao seemed ready to retort, but there was a subtle movement from behind the screen; the Empress raised her hand, bringing the discussion to an immediate end. She turned and spoke to Satsu, although again her voice was hidden from the attendants. Kurumi supposed that the screen might have some sort of enchantment upon it to prevent such a thing, or perhaps it was some quality possessed by the Empress herself. Satsu attended to her for some time, before bowing his head.
“It is the wish of the Divine Empress to hear the thoughts of the Unicorn in this matter, relating as the issue does directly to them.”
A representative of the Unicorn stepped forward and bowed deeply. Like the Lion, Kurumi did not immediately recognize him, and felt a fresh wave of annoyance at all the new faces in attendance at the court. By the time she memorized them all, the season would be nearly over. “The Unicorn are greatly honored by the Divine Empress’ indulgence,” the woman said.
The Empress gestured from behind the screen. Proceed, her gestured indicated.
“It is true that the war with the Lion, as well as the campaign in which our previous Khan engaged prior to his death, have left our clan in dire circumstances.” The courtier deftly avoided mention of Moto Chagatai’s name, or details regarding his attack upon the capital, but Kurumi found it intriguing that the Unicorn would mention it at all. They were embracing their past, it seemed, despite their failings. “The Unicorn seek no further conflict with the Lion, but nor do we seek their representation in determining who should or should not enter the lands of the Unicorn. If the Phoenix genuinely wish to offer their aid, then on behalf of my clan I gratefully accept it.”
Satsu nodded, listened intently for a moment, and then continued. “It is the will of the Empress that the Phoenix delegation shall be escorted to the Unicorn provinces by whatever size honor guard the Lion feel necessary. When their activities in the Unicorn lands are completed, they will be allowed passage back to the edge of the Lion lands, again under whatever degree of guard the Lion deem appropriate.”
The Lion delegate bowed. “Your will be done, my Empress.”
Sawao bowed deeply. “All praise the wisdom of the Divine One.”
“This court session is at an end,” Satsu said unexpectedly. There were murmurs of surprise throughout the chamber, but he continued. “This discussion has only served to remind the Empress of the ongoing conflicts within the Empire. That these disturbances arose during a period of lawlessness, with an empty throne, is to be expected, for the Divine Empress knows all too well that even the most honorable soul can have difficulty resisting the nature of the mortal condition. That these conflicts remain even in the aftermath of the Heavens’ judgment, however, is troubling, and the Empress wishes to retire and reflect on this matter.” He stopped and gestured to the Chancellor and Advisor. “The Empress’ Chosen will remain in attendance to hear your grievances. The divine Empress will return to the court in three days’ time, at which point she will issue her first judgment related to the ongoing conflicts.”
The attendants knelt as the Empress withdrew from behind her screen, her Voice and the Voices of the Heavens retiring alongside her. The attendants began talking amongst themselves once they had departed the chamber, and it was obvious from their tone that many were attempting to anticipate what action, if any, the Empress might take.
The reign of the Divine Empress Iweko I was about to be tested, it seemed.
By Shawn Carman
Edited by Fred Wan
Kyuden Bayushi, Month of the Boar, year 1170
The snowfalls of early winter coated everything in sight with a light dusting of white, hinting at cocoon of snow that would appear in a matter of weeks. Heedless of the cold, a full legion of Scorpion warriors, their black armor polished to the point that their formation resembled the bright, reflective surface of a black sea, stood completely motionless in the gray light of midmorning. Likewise, soldiers lined every available inch of space along the walls and towers of the majestic Scorpion palace, so still they might be statues.
Bayushi Paneki, the Scorpion Clan Champion and the man once known as the Defender of the Empire, stood in the bracing cold without seeming to notice. He looked about at his loyal subjects with satisfaction. It was, he felt, an appropriate display for his arriving guests. Ample, but not ostentatious. It was always difficult to marry displays of strength with politically appropriate gestures, but he thought this was most suitable.
To the north, the outriders for the procession he awaited were visible on the horizon. The arrival of the procession proper took a little more than an hour, as such forces could rarely move with any significant speed. Paneki was a patient man, however, and stood as still as his men while he waited. Finally, the head of the procession reached the gates of the palace. Paneki was pleased to note that the road by which they traveled through the city to the gates was lined with his subjects, all kneeling.
The honor guard at the procession’s head fanned out through the palace’s courtyard, taking up strategic positions and carefully assessing the location of all Scorpion troops. Under any other circumstances, it would be a horrific insult, but the situation was hardly normal. The lead rider dismounted and cast aside his traveling cloak with a flourish, revealing the brilliant green armor beneath it. He approached Paneki and bowed. “My lord.”
Paneki returned the bow. “Kyuden Bayushi is honored by the return of the Empire’s Emerald Champion,” he said with a slight smile. “It is good to see you, Jimen-sama.”
“It pleases me to be home as well,” Shosuro Jimen answered, his tone as warm and cheerful as always. It was perhaps his most spectacular weapon, his constant appearance of joviality, and that was no mean feat. “I have no doubt that all is in readiness?”
“Every specification was exceeded,” Paneki said. “There will be no lapses of security here during Winter Court.”
“Of course,” Jimen agreed. “I have no doubt.” He nodded to one of the mounted soldiers. “Inform the Voice of the Empress that all is ready.”
The soldier nodded and spurred his horse to a gallop. Paneki stood alongside the Emerald Champion, surprisingly anxious for all his outer calm. He only barely noticed that his wife emerged from the nearby entrance to stand next to him as they waited. After only a few moments, a wall of heavily armored Seppun appeared, marching in perfect unison with polearms at the ready. So flawless was their every motion that it was easy to imagine that there were not men encased within the armor, but instead that it was some grandiose enchantment that had bent the will of the armor itself to the Imperial procession. Then the Seppun parted, dividing into two equal halves and forming a corridor on the interior gate.
Immediately behind them was the Imperial Palanquin, accompanied by three men on horseback, each bundled to avoid the cold. The three men rode forth, and two dismounted to approach Paneki. The first bowed very deeply. “My lord,” he said breathlessly. “It is my great honor to stand in your presence once more.”
“Chancellor,” Paneki said, returning the bow. “I offered my congratulations in our correspondence, but now allow me to do so in person. You bring tremendous honor to our family.”
Bayushi Hisoka smiled. “Thank you, my lord.”
As the other man stepped forward, the Imperial Chancellor smiled slightly. “I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting the Imperial Advisor, lord Paneki. May I present Susumu, of the Spider Clan.”
Susumu bowed, but Paneki inclined his head only the barest fraction, risking insult even in such august company. “All who serve the Empress are welcome in Kyuden Bayushi at her discretion,” he said flatly.
Susumu smiled wickedly. “Were I not utterly convinced of your honorable nature, Paneki-sama, I would surely think that I was not welcome within your home.”
Paneki was sorely tempted to offer a retort, but was spared the potential ramifications of insulting one of the Empress’ attendants when Jimen interjected. “One day the Empress will no longer have need of you,” he cheerfully told the Imperial Advisor. “On that day you will not live to see the sun set.”
“We shall see,” was all Susumu said in response.
“Jimen-sama,” called the third rider, a broad-shouldered man whose bald, tattooed head showed no sign of adverse reaction to the cold, “have all preparations been made?”
Jimen stepped forward with a bow and made the formal reply. “All in Kyuden Bayushi is in readiness, Satsu-sama. The Scorpion Champion is prepared to accept the burden of the Empress’ safety at her convenience.”
Togashi Satsu glanced at the palanquin, and although there was no visible reaction, he nodded as if he had been instructed. “Then the Empress is pleased to place her safety into the hands of her trusted vassal. You stand relieved, Champion.”
Paneki glaned at Jimen slightly, and the Emerald Champion nodded. “I have business that requires my attention in the Imperial City,” he said quietly. “I will return before the snows close Shamate Pass.”
“All bow before the radiant majesty of the Divine Empress Iweko I, the Child of the Heavens,” Satsu said, dismounting and dropping to one knee as the curtains of the palanquin parted.
All those around him knelt, and Paneki began to do so, but he hesitated ever so slightly in order to witness the Empress emerge from her conveyance. Even as she stepped forward, she turned and met his eyes instantly, as if she knew that he looked upon her. She smiled slightly, and Paneki felt his breath come short in his chest. He dropped to the ground at once, kneeling in the presence of his Empress. He held that position for a handful of seconds, mindful of the squirming and cooing sounds next to him.
“The Empress bids you rise, Scorpion Champion.”
Paneki did as he was instructed, and struggled for words as he stood before his Empress. “We are honored to receive you, my lady,” he said softly. Very carefully, he withdrew his blade, still within its saya and held it forward. “I offer you my blade, Empress, to command as you see fit. My life is yours.”
Iweko lifted one hand slightly, declining the gift, the soft smile still on her features. Paneki nodded and replaced the blade within his obi. “I am honored to present to you my wife, Bayushi Miyako,” he said, gesturing to the small woman beside him, “and our son, Ichiro.”
“Empress,” Miyako said, inclining her head. The baby cooed and wriggled in her arms.
“The service of the former Toturi Miyako is well remembered in the Imperial City,” Satsu said. “Your presence is a source of comfort for the Empress.”
Iweko smiled at the baby and reached out to stroke the back of the little boy’s hand. He quieted instantly and stared up at the Empress as if entranced.
Miyako gasped slightly. “Empress,” she said, her voice shaky, “You bless our son with your favor.”
“If you please,” the Voice of the Empress said, “the journey has been long and arduous, and the Empress wishes to retire to her quarters before the evening meal.”
“Of course,” Paneki said. “If you will come this way, Divine One, I will show you to your suites personally.”
* * *
Two weeks later
“And thus it was,” the playwright said, reading from his manuscript with great emotion and flourish, “that the Scorpion emerged victorious, and earned the favor of the Dragon Clan for assisting in vanquishing the unseen menace within their ranks!” With that, he bowed before the assembled attendants and then before the Empress, holding his bow for a moment.
Those in attendance clapped politely, but there was a moment’s hesitation, as if they were somewhat cautious. Doji Ayano clapped a few times and then fanned herself lightly. She had found the story amusing, but she understood the trepidation of others; debuting a new story that included villainy among the ranks of the Dragon, and the dependence upon the Scorpion by the Dragon to deal with such a threat, was surely a risky venture considering that the Empress had been among the ranks of the Dragon only a short time ago. She wondered idly if this Bayushi Hiroshi had made a calculated gamble to attract the Empress’ attention, of if he was honestly ignorant of the possible ramifications of his actions. She hoped that the young man would not bring the wrath of his Champion, or worse, that of the Empress herself down upon him.
The Empress sat upon her dais, flanked on her right by the Voice of the Empress and on her left by the Imperial Advisor. Behind her, almost disappearing into the dim lightning at the hindmost section of the chamber, stood the unmoving Voices of the Sun and Moon, ever present if the Empress required their counsel. The Advisor, Susumu, was regarding the young Scorpion with evident amusement, while Satsu looked impassive as ever. From the chamber floor, on the other hand, Hisoka was displaying what Ayano believed might be the only genuine emotion she had ever seen from him: annoyance.
Satsu glanced at the Empress, whom was obscured by screens from the attendants at large, although her silhouette was visible. She turned and apparently spoke to him, though none could hear her. He nodded once. “The Empress finds your tale entertaining,” he answered, “as it reminds her of a matter she investigated once during her youth, alongside a Scorpion magistrate, as it so happens. She looks forward to the play from which your tale is taken being performed here during the Winter Court.”
There was an almost electric stir from the crowd as many delegates exchanged knowing glances with one another. Such an open display of favor was uncommon, and unheard of for someone so unknown as the young playwright. This would definitely indicate a shift of power within the artisans in attendance. Hiroshi, for his part, was exuberant at the praise. “Thank you, Divine One!” he beamed. “I will have the play prepared for you within a fortnight, if that is your wish!”
“That would please the Empress greatly,” Satsu answered.
Ayano could not help but smile at the young man’s obviously genuine enthusiasm, although she felt badly for the artisans in attendance from her own delegation, as they would likely be overlooked by potential patrons in favor of the Scorpion now.
It was going to be an interesting season, she acknowledged inwardly.
* * *
Month of the Rat, year 1170
It was expected for most clans to have some manner of grievance and to seek the judgment of the Empress when the Imperial personage scheduled time for such things to be heard. It was unexpected, Bayushi Kurumi reflected, for the Phoenix to be first among those to step forward, however.
“My lady Empress,” the elder statesman said. “I am Isawa Sawao, master sensei of the Blade of the Sacred Flame dojo and both former and present servant of the throne.”
“Your name is known to the Empress,” Satsu said. “It was you who ended the curse of the Amethyst Crown, a cursed artifact that ruined the lives of countless loyal servants over the centuries. You have the Divine One’s gratitude for lifting a burden from her before it fell upon her shoulders.”
The older shugenja bowed deeply. “That my name is known to the Child of the Heavens is the greatest honor of my life,” he said. “It is with deep regret that I must approach the Empress with a matter of complaint, but I am bound by my oaths as a Phoenix, and by the code of compassion by which all samurai are expected to be held accountable, to speak.”
The priest’s genuine tone and quiet anger at the matter pressing upon his mind was enough to intrigue even the most jaded among the observers. “Please speak,” Satsu said.
“We all know the tale of the great war between the Lion and the Unicorn,” Sawao began, “a war that is now thankfully at an end. The Lion campaign against the Unicorn lands was justified, and demanded by honor. As an advocate of peace and a representative of the Phoenix, I laud the Lion for their restraint during their march. It is a secret to none that with their full might they could have inflicted terrible suffering upon their enemies, even ones as hardy and resilient as the Unicorn.” The priest paused and glanced toward the Lion now after favoring the Unicorn with a respectful nod. “It is with outrage, then, that I must report that Phoenix envoys bound for the Unicorn lands were turned away by the Lion after being refused entrance to the roads leading to the Unicorn provinces.”
“If it pleases the Empress,” a Lion stepped forward. “I wish to address this allegation.”
“Do so,” Satsu said.
“The Phoenix envoys that Sawao-sama describes,” the Lion said, “included well over a hundred men, many of whom were bearing weapons, and who requested passage through the Lion lands.”
“The only roads large enough for our needs pass through the Lion lands,” Sawao answered irritably. “And I was unaware that Lion samurai always left their blades at home when traveling abroad. Clearly this custom has yet to catch on among my Shiba brethren.”
There was a slight murmur of amusement at this, although the Lion representative clearly did not find it entertaining in the slightest. “Should the Lion simply allow hundreds of armed men passage through their lands without question? Would you have other clans adopt the same naivety that has served the Phoenix so well over the centuries?”
“I would call it pragmatism,” Sawao countered. “Or did you imagine that the ruination visited by your clan could be undone by a handful of monks with training in the herbal arts alone?”
“All the Lion know is that the Phoenix have made the business of others their own many times in the past years,” the Lion said smartly. “Should any clan risk your ‘intervention’ in their own lands if it could be avoided? Who can say that the Unicorn would not find your assistance less than welcome?”
Sawao’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The actions taken by the Phoenix were taken in an Empire without guidance or leadership. We sought only to save lives and resources for the day when a rightful ruler could assume such tasks. We only sought to serve the Empire.”
“You only sought to impose your view of what is right and honorable upon others,” the Lion countered. “I find the expulsion of Phoenix forces from the Yasuki lands the only honorable response to actions such as yours.”
Sawao seemed ready to retort, but there was a subtle movement from behind the screen; the Empress raised her hand, bringing the discussion to an immediate end. She turned and spoke to Satsu, although again her voice was hidden from the attendants. Kurumi supposed that the screen might have some sort of enchantment upon it to prevent such a thing, or perhaps it was some quality possessed by the Empress herself. Satsu attended to her for some time, before bowing his head.
“It is the wish of the Divine Empress to hear the thoughts of the Unicorn in this matter, relating as the issue does directly to them.”
A representative of the Unicorn stepped forward and bowed deeply. Like the Lion, Kurumi did not immediately recognize him, and felt a fresh wave of annoyance at all the new faces in attendance at the court. By the time she memorized them all, the season would be nearly over. “The Unicorn are greatly honored by the Divine Empress’ indulgence,” the woman said.
The Empress gestured from behind the screen. Proceed, her gestured indicated.
“It is true that the war with the Lion, as well as the campaign in which our previous Khan engaged prior to his death, have left our clan in dire circumstances.” The courtier deftly avoided mention of Moto Chagatai’s name, or details regarding his attack upon the capital, but Kurumi found it intriguing that the Unicorn would mention it at all. They were embracing their past, it seemed, despite their failings. “The Unicorn seek no further conflict with the Lion, but nor do we seek their representation in determining who should or should not enter the lands of the Unicorn. If the Phoenix genuinely wish to offer their aid, then on behalf of my clan I gratefully accept it.”
Satsu nodded, listened intently for a moment, and then continued. “It is the will of the Empress that the Phoenix delegation shall be escorted to the Unicorn provinces by whatever size honor guard the Lion feel necessary. When their activities in the Unicorn lands are completed, they will be allowed passage back to the edge of the Lion lands, again under whatever degree of guard the Lion deem appropriate.”
The Lion delegate bowed. “Your will be done, my Empress.”
Sawao bowed deeply. “All praise the wisdom of the Divine One.”
“This court session is at an end,” Satsu said unexpectedly. There were murmurs of surprise throughout the chamber, but he continued. “This discussion has only served to remind the Empress of the ongoing conflicts within the Empire. That these disturbances arose during a period of lawlessness, with an empty throne, is to be expected, for the Divine Empress knows all too well that even the most honorable soul can have difficulty resisting the nature of the mortal condition. That these conflicts remain even in the aftermath of the Heavens’ judgment, however, is troubling, and the Empress wishes to retire and reflect on this matter.” He stopped and gestured to the Chancellor and Advisor. “The Empress’ Chosen will remain in attendance to hear your grievances. The divine Empress will return to the court in three days’ time, at which point she will issue her first judgment related to the ongoing conflicts.”
The attendants knelt as the Empress withdrew from behind her screen, her Voice and the Voices of the Heavens retiring alongside her. The attendants began talking amongst themselves once they had departed the chamber, and it was obvious from their tone that many were attempting to anticipate what action, if any, the Empress might take.
The reign of the Divine Empress Iweko I was about to be tested, it seemed.